Lucy Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
by Elphaba818
Summary: It's Lucy's third year at Hogwarts, but life is anything but normal for her. Sirius Black is on the loose, and word on the street is that he's after her and Harry. And Lucy feels herself growing distant from Harry as she starts to confide more in Hermione about her feelings for Draco, and her curiousity about her new secret admirer.
1. Owl Post

**Okay, I know I'm long overdue with posting this first chapter, but understand that many things have happened since I posted that last chapter of Chamber of Secrets.  
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**1. As all of you, my dear readers, know, I was extremely sick when I posted that chapter, and it took me at least another three or four days after posting that chapter that I felt well enough to start going back to school.  
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**2. I had to not only make up all that homework I missed while I was sick, but I also was assigned TONS of projects around the same time I was still making up that work to do by the end of October. I'm just glad I turned them in on time.  
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**3. I'm a senior now, which means I have to start thinking about college next year. I've got to apply for colleges and scholarships and write essays for both! It's exhausting, I've got to say!  
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**4. I recently had inspiration for my movie script. I'm a filmmaker, see, and I'm currently writing a movie that I want to be able to direct and produce for the big screen one day. I found the inspiration that I needed to help with a three month writer block that was for a scene that was albeit somewhat boring, but still very necessary to progress the storyline. Trust me, all of you will see this movie win the Best Picture Award for the Oscar's one day, and just for the record, those are not my words, they are the words of all my classmates who have so far given feedback and have helped to edit what I've currently written so far.**

**Anyways, this is it! This is book where Lucy's story really begins! Please note, until she's at Hogwarts, she still might seem a little boring, but that's only because all of my ideas are for when she's at Hogwarts itself. Please just be patient for a couple more chapters!  
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**As always, be sure to read and review!  
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**Chapter One:****Owl Post**

Harry and Lucy Potter were highly unusual children in many ways. For one thing, they both hated the summer holidays more than any other time of the year. For another, they really wanted to do their homework but were forced to do it in secret in the dead of night. And they also happened to be a witch and wizard.

It was nearly midnight, and they were lying on their stomachs on the cold floorboards of their shared room, blankets drawn right over their heads like a tent, a flashlight in Lucy's hand and a large leather-bound book (_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the wall. Lucy held up the light as Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help them write their essays, "Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century was Completely Pointless–discuss."

The quill paused at the top of a likely looking paragraph.

"Lucy," he whispered quietly. "This looks good. What do you think?"

Lucy shifted the book so she could see, brought the light closer to the page, and read:

_Non-magic people (most commonly known as_

_Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in me_–

_dieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On_

_the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or_

_wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch_

_or wizard would perform a basic Flame Freezing_

_Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while_

_enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wen_–

_delin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that_

_she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-_

_seven times in various disguises._

"We should definitely add this," Lucy whispered, shifting the book back to her brother.

Harry put his quill between his teeth and reached underneath the pillow he was lying on for his inkbottle and two rolls of parchment. He passed one roll to Lucy before slowly and very carefully unscrewing the inkbottle. He dipped his quill into it and began to write. After finishing three sentences, he swapped his quill for Lucy's flashlight and passed the book over so she could work, too. They paused each time before switching materials to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard them whispering or the scratching of the quill on their way to the bathroom, they'd probably find themselves locked up together in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer.

The Dursley family of number four, Privet Drive, were the reason that Harry and Lucy never enjoyed their summer holidays. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were Harry and Lucy's only living relatives. Harry and Lucy's dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys' roof. For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept the twins as downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of them. To their fury, they had been unsuccessful. These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that Harry and Lucy spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock away Harry and Lucy's spellbooks, wands, cauldrons, and broomsticks at the start of the summer break and forbid them to talk to the neighbors.

This separation from their spellbooks had been a real problem for Harry and Lucy, because their teachers at Hogwarts had given them a lot of holiday work. One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Harry and Lucy's least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give Harry and Lucy detention for a month. Harry and Lucy had therefore seized their chance in the first week of the holidays. While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out to the front garden to admire Uncle Vernon's new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too), Harry and Lucy had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed some of their books, and hidden them in their bedroom. As long as they didn't leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that they were studying magic by night.

Harry and Lucy were particularly keen to avoid trouble with their aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with them, all because they'd received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week into the school vacation.

Ron Weasley, who was one of Harry and Lucy's best friends at Hogwarts, came from a whole family of witches and wizards. This meant that he knew a lot of things Harry and Lucy didn't, but had never used a telephone before. Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call.

"Vernon Dursley, speaking."

Harry and Lucy, who happened to be in the room at the time, both froze as they heard Ron's voice answer.

"HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I–WANT–TO–TALK–TO–HARRY–AND–LUCY–POTTER!"

Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm.

"WHO IS THIS?" he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"RON–WEASLEY!" Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football field. "I'M–A–FRIEND–OF–HARRY–AND–LUCY'S–FROM–SCHOOL–"

Uncle Vernon's small eyes swiveled around to Harry and Lucy, who were both rooted to their seats.

"THERE IS NO HARRY OR LUCY POTTER HERE!" he roared, now holding the receiver at arm's length, as though frightened it might explode. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!"

And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider.

"HOW DARE YOU TWO GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE–PEOPLE LIKE_ YOU TWO!"_ Uncle Vernon roared, spraying Harry and Lucy with spit.

Ron obviously realized that he'd gotten Harry and Lucy into trouble, because he hadn't called again. Harry and Lucy's other best friend Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn't been in touch either. The twins suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in Harry and Lucy's year, had Muggle parents, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts.

So Harry and Lucy had had no word from any of their magical friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one. There was just one very small improvement–after swearing that they wouldn't use her to send letters to any of their friends, Harry and Lucy had been allowed to let their owl, Hedwig, out at night. Uncle Vernon had given in because of the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time.

Harry and Lucy finished writing about Wendelin the Weird and paused to listen again. The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting of their enormous cousin, Dudley.

"It must be very late," whispered Lucy, fighting back a yawn.

"Yeah," Harry whispered back, his eyes itching with tiredness. "Perhaps we'll finish these essays tomorrow night…."

"Fine by me."

Harry replaced the top of the inkbottle as Lucy crawled out from under the blanket and pulled and old pillowcase from under her bed. They put the flashlight, _A History of Magic, _their essays, quill, and ink inside it; crawled out from under the blankets; and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under Harry's bed. Then they stood up, stretched, put the blankets and pillows back on their beds, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on the bedside table between their beds.

It was one o'clock in the morning. Harry and Lucy's stomachs gave funny jolts.

"Amazing," Harry whispered sarcastically. "Both of us have been thirteen for a whole hour, and we didn't even realize it."

"Well, happy birthday, then, Harry," said Lucy dully.

"Yeah, happy birthday, Lucy."

Yet another unusual thing about Harry and Lucy was how little they looked forward to their birthdays. They had never received a birthday card in their lives. The Dursleys had completely ignored their last two birthdays, and they had no reason to suppose they would remember this one.

Harry and Lucy walked across the dark room, past Hedwig's large, empty cage, to the open window. They leaned on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on their faces after a long time under the blankets. Hedwig had been absent for two nights now. Harry and Lucy weren't worried about her: she'd been gone this long before. But they both hoped she'd be back soon–she was the only living creature in the house who didn't flinch at the sight of them.

Harry and Lucy, though both sill small and skinny for their age, had both grown a few inches over the last year. Harry's jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been–stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it. Lucy's was jet-black, too, but now went just past her shoulders, and she desperately tried to tame it by putting it into two low, trademark pigtails every day. Her and Harry's eyes behind his glasses were bright green, and on their foreheads, clearly visible through Harry's hair and Lucy having always pulled her hair back, were identical thin scars, shaped like bolts of lightning.

Of all the unusual things about Harry and Lucy, these scars were the most extraordinary of all. They were not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, souvenirs of the car crash that had killed Harry and Lucy's parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash. They had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort. Harry and Lucy had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than scars on their foreheads, where Voldemort's curse, instead of killing them, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled….

But Harry and Lucy had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts. Remembering their last meeting as they stood at the dark window, Harry and Lucy had to admit they were lucky even to have reached their thirteenth birthday.

They scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig, perhaps soaring back to them with a dead mouse dangling from her beak, expecting praise.

"See her anywhere, Harry?"

"No, but I'm sure she's–hm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Lucy, look up there!"

Gazing absently over the rooftops in the direction Harry was pointing, it was a few seconds before Lucy realized what she was seeing.

Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Harry and Lucy's direction. They both stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. For a split second they hesitated, staring at one another.

"Maybe it's not flying toward us…"

"But shouldn't we shut the window, just to be on the safe side?"

"Perhaps, but so long as–"

As they debated, the bizarre creature soared over one of the street lamps of Privet Drive, and Harry and Lucy, realizing what it was, leapt aside.

Through the window soared four owls, two of them holding up the third, and the fourth flapping beneath them in case the one in the middle, which appeared to be unconscious, fell in midflight. They landed with a soft _flump_ on Harry's bed, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs.

Harry and Lucy recognized the unconscious owl at once–his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family.

"Lucy, get Hedwig's cage ready!" said Harry, dashing to the bed to untie the cords on Errol's legs.

Lucy unlocked Hedwig's cage, and poured fresh water into Hedwig's water tin as Harry carried Errol over. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water.

Harry and Lucy turned back to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was their own Hedwig. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Harry and Lucy both an affectionate nip with her beak as they removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol.

Harry and Lucy didn't recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but they both knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying two letters bearing the Hogwarts crests. When Harry and Lucy relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night.

The fourth and final owl was vaguely familiar, but neither Harry nor Lucy could pinpoint exactly where they'd seen it. A handsome eagle owl, letting out an impatient hoot for one of them to take its rather tiny parcel, was now left alone on Harry's bed. Lucy untied the parcel from its leg. It gave one last hoot of farewell before spreading its wings, and taking off back into the night sky.

Harry and Lucy sat down on Harry's bed and stared at the parcels.

"So," Harry said uncertainly, "what should we open first?"

"How about Errol's package?" Lucy suggested.

"Sounds good to me."

They grabbed Errol's package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered two presents wrapped in gold, and their first ever birthday card. Fingers trembling slightly, Harry opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out–a letter and a newspaper clipping.

The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the _Daily Prophet,_ because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving. Lucy picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and held it out so Harry could see it, too. They read:

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE

SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Ar–

tifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the

annual _Daily Prophet_ Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

A delighted Mr. Weasley told the _Daily Prophet,_

"We will be spending the gold on a summer holi–

day in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a

curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank."

The Weasley family will be spending a month in

Egypt, returning for the start of the new school

year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley chil–

dren currently attend.

Harry and Lucy scanned the moving photograph, and grins spread across their faces as they saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at them, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump, little Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn't show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny.

Harry and Lucy couldn't think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor. Harry picked up Ron's letter and unfolded it.

_Dear Harry and Lucy,_

_Happy birthday!_

_Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn't give you guys a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted._

_It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us all around the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian witches and wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff._

_I couldn't believe it when Dad won the _Daily Prophet_ Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year._

Harry and Lucy remembered only too well the occasion when Ron's old wand had snapped. It had happened when the car the three of them had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds.

_We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you two there?_

_Don't let the Muggles get you down!_

_Try and come to London._

_Ron_

_P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week._

Harry and Lucy glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun.

"I imagine Percy must be quite pleased," said Lucy.

"I don't doubt that," said Harry, chuckling.

They now turned to Ron's package and unwrapped it together. Inside was what looked like two miniature glass spinning tops. There was another note from Ron beneath them.

_Harry, Lucy_–_these are Pocket Sneakoscopes. If there's someone untrustworthy around, they're supposed to light up and spin. Bill says they're rubbish sold for wizard tourists and aren't reliable, because both of them kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup._

_Bye_–

_Ron_

Harry and Lucy put the Pocket Sneakoscopes on their bedside table, where they stood quite still, balanced on their points, reflecting the luminous hands of their clock. They looked at them happily for a few seconds, then turned to the parcel Hedwig had brought.

Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione.

_Dear Harry and Lucy,_

_Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're both all right._

_I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send these to you two_–_what if they'd opened them at customs?_ –_but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you guys got something for your birthday for a change. However, I was worried about over exerting her with the weight of your gifts, so I'm afraid your version, Lucy, I'll have to give you the next time I see you. I'm really sorry!_

_I bought your presents by owl-order, there was an advertisement in the _Daily Prophet_ (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you two see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous_–_the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating._

_There is some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out. I hope it's not too long_–_its two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for._

_Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holiday. Can you both make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you two come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see both of you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!_

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it._

The twins laughed as Lucy put Hermione's letter aside and Harry picked up her present for him alone.

"It's really heavy."

"Well, knowing Hermione, it's probably a monster-sized book full of complex spells."

But it wasn't. Their hearts gave huge bounds as Harry ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading _Broomstick Servicing Kit._

"Wow, Hermione!" Harry whispered.

"Now I'm jealous," Lucy said. "You have yours right now, but I have to wait until we see Hermione again to get mine."

Harry snickered, unzipping the case so they could look inside.

There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on a broom for long journeys, and a _Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare._

Apart from their friends, the thing that Harry and Lucy missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world–highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. Harry and Lucy happened to be very good Quidditch players; they had been the youngest boy and girl in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams. One of Harry and Lucy's most prized possessions were their Nimbus Two Thousand racing brooms.

Harry put the leather case aside as he and Lucy turned to the parcel brought by the mysterious eagle owl. It was very narrow, and thing, and was only as long as Lucy's forearm.

Inside this parcel was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter addressed solely to Lucy.

"It's just for you?" Harry asked curiously.

"Apparently," Lucy said.

It read:

_Dear Lucy,_

_I'm the one who sent you that ring on Valentine's Day. I'm really sorry about how that dwarf caused such a huge spectacle, though. I didn't mean to embarrass you, and I'm really sorry if I did, but I do still hope that you liked the ring._

_You're probably wondering who I am, but I'm afraid I can't tell you. Part of the reason why is out of embarrassment, I'll admit, but the other is out of knowing that you'd be happier accepting this if you don't know who I am. I know you and your brother hate me at school, and that I hate your brother, so I know you'd be angry if you know for sure who I am. I don't want that. I just want you to like this._

_That doesn't mean I won't hope that you figure out who I am, however. I hope one day you do._

_Happy birthday!_

There was no signature. Lucy's cheeks were rosy red by the time she finished reading, and she was nervously twisting the ring on her finger. It had become a somewhat of a habit to do so whenever she felt anxious. Harry could only glare at the letter.

"I don't know whoever sent this thinks he is," he said slowly, "but he's got some nerve thinking that he'll ever have a chance with my sister if he's knows for a fact that I don't like him!"

Lucy gave a half-attempted, sheepish laugh.

"S-so," she stuttered, "being the overprotective b-brother now, are y-you?"

"Oh, ha, ha," Harry said. "I'm just looking out for my only sister."

Lucy smiled nervously at him before turning to the parcel and unwrapping it. Inside was a small box, which she opened to reveal a silver bracelet, inlaid with a sparkling red gem. It matched her ring perfectly. Her cheeks reddened again as she slipped the bracelet on over the same hand that she wore her ring, and admired it quietly for a moment.

"Pretty…" she said at last.

Again, Harry glared.

"Yep," he said. "I'll definitely be looking out for this guy from now on."

Lucy glared playfully at him before picking up the their last parcel. They both recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. They tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed two things green and leathery, but before they could unwrap them properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it loudly snapped twice–as though it had jaws.

Harry and Lucy froze. They knew that Hagrid would never send them anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn't have a normal person's view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been know to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

Harry poked the parcel nervously. It loudly snapped twice again. Harry reached for the lamp on the bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over his head, ready to strike. Then Lucy leaned over the parcel, seized the rest of the wrapping paper in one hand, and pulled.

And out fell–two books. Harry and Lucy just had time to register their handsome green covers, emblazoned with the golden titles _The Monster Book of Monsters,_ before they both flipped onto their edges and scuttled sideways along Harry's bed like some weird crabs.

"Uh-oh," Lucy whispered.

Both books toppled off the bed with loud clunks and shuffled rapidly across the room in opposite directions. Harry and Lucy each followed one stealthily. Harry's book was hiding in the dark space under their desk, and Lucy's had burrowed its way deep into a pile of clothes in the corner of their closet. Both praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry and Lucy both got down on their hands and knees and reached toward them.

"Argh!"

"Ouch!"

Both books snapped shut on their hands and then flapped past both of them, still scuttling on their covers. Harry and Lucy both scrambled around, threw themselves forward, and managed to flatten them. Uncle Vernon gave a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door.

"Now what?" Lucy panted, struggling with all her might not to let the book escape and start flapping again.

"Hang on!" Harry hissed.

Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, hurried to their chest of drawers, and pulled out two belts, one of which he threw to Lucy. They buckled the belts tightly around both of the books. Both of the _Monster Books_ shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so the twins threw them down on their beds and reached for Hagrid's card.

_Dear Harry and Lucy,_

_Happy birthday!_

_Think you two might find these useful for next year._

_Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you both._

_Hope the Muggles are treating you both right._

_All the best,_

_Hagrid_

"He's officially lost it!" said Lucy in disbelief. "He thinks that biting books will be useful for us?"

Harry shrugged, but put Hagrid's card next to Ron's, Hermione's, and the one from Lucy's mysterious admirer.

"Only the letter from Hogwarts left," he stated.

Lucy grinned and reached for the letter.

"It feels thicker than usual," she said as she slit open the envelope. She pulled out the first page of parchment within, and held it out so Harry could see. They read:

_Dear Mr. and Miss Potter,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on Setem_–

_ber the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross_

_station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

_ Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade_

_on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission forms_

_to your parents or guardians to sign._

_ Your lists of books for next year are enclosed._

_ Yours sincerely,_

_ Professor M. McGonagall_

_ Deputy Headmistress_

Harry and Lucy pulled out the two Hogsmeade permission forms and looked at them before looking at each other, no longer grinning.

"It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on the weekends," said Lucy. "We've never been to an entire wizarding village…." Harry nodded.

"But to go," he added, "we'll need either Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign our permission forms…."

"And how on earth are we going to do that?" they finished together.

Harry looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o'clock in the morning.

"It's late," he said. "Let's worry about the Hogsmeade forms in the morning."

"Okay," Lucy agreed.

They got into bed and Harry reached up to cross off another day on the chart they'd made for themselves, counting down the days left until their return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses as Lucy took off her new bracelet and ring and they both laid down, eyes open, facing they birthday cards.

Extremely unusual though they were, at that moment, Harry and Lucy Potter felt just like everyone else–glad, for the first time in their lives, that it was their birthday.


	2. Aunt Marge's Big Mistake

**I wish I could escape my daily life. I've been accepted to two colleges so far, Western Illinois University, and my dream school, Columbia College in Chicago. I'm glad I've got into college, but I'm growing tired now of having gotten in at all due to the fact that my mom's been bugging me about scholarships. I hate it all! I just want to write for all of you, my dear readers and reviewers!  
**

**Please, be sure to review!**

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**Chapter Two:****Aunt Marge's Big Mistake**

Harry and Lucy went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.

Harry and Lucy sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Harry or Lucy a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed the twins enter the room, but Harry and Lucy were far too used to this to care. They helped themselves to pieces of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict.

"…The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."

"No need to tell us _he's_ no good," snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy lay about! Look at his hair!"

He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry and Lucy, whose untidy hairs had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon, even though Lucy was always trying to tame hers by putting it up into two pigtails. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry and Lucy both felt very well groomed indeed.

The reporter had reappeared.

"The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today–"

"Hang on!" barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. "You didn't tell us where the maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"

Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Harry and Lucy knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors.

"When will they _learn,"_ said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"

"Very true," said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into the next door's runner beans.

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, "I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten."

Harry and Lucy, whose thoughts had been upstairs with their birthday presents, were both brought back to earth with unpleasant bumps.

"Aunt Marge?" Harry blurted out.

"Sh-_she's_ not coming here," Lucy stuttered, "is she?"

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry and Lucy's (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), they had been forced to call her "Aunt" all their life. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vivid in Harry and Lucy's minds.

At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at musical statues. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits and a squeaky dog chew toy for Harry and Lucy. On her last visit, the year before Harry and Lucy started at Hogwarts, Lucy had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Lucy out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight. The memory still brought tears of laughter to Dudley's eyes, and tears of humiliation and fear to Lucy's eyes, who had since then grown to be somewhat wary of dogs, especially after the encounter with the monstrous Fluffy, Hagrid's enormous three-headed dog, during her first year at Hogwarts. She was overcoming this fear little by little, though, thanks to Hagrid's friendly boarhound, Fang, who often accompanied Hagrid during his gamekeeper duties. The thought of Ripper returning to Privet Drive frightened Lucy back into her old fears, and Harry was worried that all her progress of becoming friendly with dogs would just go right down the drain if Ripper would be coming to Privet Drive with Aunt Marge.

"Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject" –he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry and Lucy– "we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her."

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching the twins being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," growled Uncle Vernon, "you two'll keep a civil tongue in your heads when you're talking to Marge."

"All right," said Harry bitterly, "if she does when she's talking to us."

"Secondly," said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your _abnormalities,_ I don't want any–any _funny_ stuff while she's here. You two behave yourselves, got me?"

"We will if she does," said Lucy, clenching her fists.

"And thirdly," said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge you two attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Children."

"_What?"_ Harry and Lucy yelled.

"And you'll be sticking to that story, Potter's, or there'll be trouble," spat Uncle Vernon.

Harry and Lucy sat there, both white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge was coming for a weeklong visit–it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given them, including those pairs of Uncle Vernon's old socks.

"Well, Petunia," said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry and Lucy.

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blonde hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bowtie."

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.

"See you in a bit, then," he said, and he left the kitchen.

Harry and Lucy, who had both been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, both suddenly looked at each other, seeing if the other had the same sudden idea. Abandoning their pieces of toast, they nodded to each other, got quickly to their feet, and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door.

Uncle Vernon was pulling on his coat.

"I'm not taking either of _you,"_ he snarled as he turned to see Harry and Lucy watching him.

"Like either of us even want to go," said Lucy coldly. "Harry and I have something we want to ask you."

Uncle Vernon eyed them suspiciously.

"Third years at Hog–at our school are allowed to visit the village sometimes," said Harry.

"So?" snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door.

"So we need you to sign our permission forms so we can go," Lucy explained.

"And why should I do that?" sneered Uncle Vernon.

"Well," said Harry, choosing his words carefully, "it'll be hard work for us, pretending to Aunt Marge that we go to that St. Whatsits–"

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Children!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, and Harry and Lucy were pleased to hear a definite not of panic in Uncle Vernon's voice.

"That's just it," said Lucy, looking calmly up into Uncle Vernon's large, purple face. "It's a lot for us to remember. We'll have to make it sound convincing, won't we? What if one of us accidentally let something slip?"

"_You two'll get the stuffing knocked out of you both, won't you?"_ roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry and Lucy with his fist raised. But Harry and Lucy stood their ground.

"But knocking the stuffing out of us won't change anything."

"It wouldn't make Aunt Marge forget what we could tell her, could it?"

Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.

"But if you sign our permission forms," Harry went on quickly, "we swear we'll remember where we're supposed to go to school."

"We'll act like Mug–like we're normal and everything," Lucy added.

Harry and Lucy could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

"Right," he snapped finally, "I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge's visit. If, at the end of it, you've both toed the line and kept to the story, I'll sign your ruddy forms."

He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.

Harry and Lucy stood there for a moment before looking at each other.

"That's it, then, I guess," said Lucy. Harry nodded.

"C'mon, let's get ready."

They didn't return to the kitchen. Harry and Lucy went back upstairs to their bedroom. If they were going to act like real Muggles, they'd better start now. Slowly and sadly they gathered up all their presents and birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with their homework. Then they went to Hedwig's cage. Errol seemed to have recovered; he and Hedwig were both asleep, heads under their wings. Harry and Lucy both sighed, and then poked them both awake.

"Hedwig," Harry said gloomily, "you're going to have to clear off for a week. Go with Errol. Ron'll look after you. We'll write him a note, explaining."

"Don't look at us like that," said Lucy, because Hedwig's large amber eyes had turned reproachful. "We don't want to do this, but it's the only way we'll be allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione."

Ten minutes later, Errol and Hedwig (who had a note to Ron bound to her leg) soared out of the window and out of sight. Harry and Lucy, both now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cage away inside the wardrobe.

But Harry and Lucy didn't have long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs fro Harry and Lucy to come down and get ready to welcome their guest.

"Both of you! Do something about your hair!" Aunt Petunia snapped as they reached the hall.

Harry and Lucy couldn't see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat or by fixing her pigtails. Aunt Marge loved criticizing them, so the untidier they both looked, the happier she would be.

All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path.

"Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at the twins.

Exchanging great, gloomy expressions, Harry and Lucy pulled the door open.

On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and purple-faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held and enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog. Lucy fought back the urge to shiver as she felt the dog's eyes narrow on her within seconds.

"Where's my Dudders?" roared Aunt Marge. "Where's my neffypoo?"

Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blonde hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins. Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry and Lucy's stomachs, knocking the wind out of them, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a large kiss on his cheek.

Harry and Lucy both knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge's hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.

"Petunia!" shouted Aunt Marge, striding past Harry and Lucy as though they were hat stands. Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunia's bony cheekbone.

Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door.

"Tea, Marge?" he said. "And what will Ripper take?"

"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," said Aunt Marge, as they all proceeded into the kitchen, leaving Harry and Lucy alone in the hall with the suitcase. But they weren't complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by them, so they began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as they could.

By the time they got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Harry and Lucy saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals.

"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them," boomed Aunt Marge. "He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me."

Ripper began to growl again as Harry and Lucy sat down. Lucy resisted the urge to squeal, and instead scooted to the very edge of her seat away from the old bulldog. This directed Aunt Marge's attention to Harry and Lucy for the first time."

"So!" she barked. "Still here, are you two?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Y-yes," Lucy squeaked, not taking her eyes off of Ripper.

"Don't say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone, boy, and look at me when you speak, girl," Aunt Marge growled. "It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you two. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd both have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on _my_ doorstep."

Harry and Lucy were both bursting to say that they'd rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade forms stopped them. They forced their faces into painful smiles."

"Don't you two smirk at me!" boomed Aunt Marge. "I can see neither of you have improved since I last saw you two. I hoped school would knock some manners into both of you." She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, "Where is it that you send them again, Vernon?"

"St. Brutus's," said Uncle Vernon promptly. "It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases."

"I see," said Aunt Marge. "Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, girl?" she barked across the table at Lucy.

"Um–"

Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge's back.

"Y-yes," said Lucy. Then, feeling she might as well do the thing properly, she added, "all the t-time."

"Excellent," said Aunt Marge. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have _both of you_ been beaten often?"

"Oh, y-yeah," Lucy stuttered.

"Loads of times," said Harry.

Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes.

"I still don't like your tones, you two," she said. "If you two can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting both of you hard enough. Petunia, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear you approve the use of extreme force in their cases."

Perhaps Uncle Vernon was worried that Harry and Lucy might forget their bargain; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly.

"Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"

* * *

As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry and Lucy caught themselves thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry and Lucy to stay out of their way, which Harry and Lucy were only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry and Lucy under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for their improvement. She delighted in comparing the twins with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Harry and Lucy, as though daring them to ask why they hadn't gotten presents too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry and Lucy such unsatisfactory people.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy and girl's turned out, Vernon," she said over lunch on the third day. "If there's something rotten on the _inside,_ there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Lucy gave Harry a sharp kick under the table, seeing his hands shake and his face starting to burn with anger.

"Remember Hogsmeade," she whispered under her breath. "Think about the form. Just stay quiet. Don't say–"

Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there's be something wrong with the pups–"

At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Mage sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

"Marge!" squealed Aunt Petunia. "Marge, are you all right?"

"Not to worry," grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…"

But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Harry and Lucy suspiciously, so they decided they'd better skip dessert and escape from the table as soon as they could.

Outside in the hall, Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, as Lucy gazed at him worriedly.

"Harry," she said. "Please… tell me that wasn't what I think it was… please tell me that you didn't…."

"I… I think I might have…." He whispered back. Lucy's hands flew to her mouth. It had been a long time since one of them had lost control and made something explode. They couldn't afford to let it happen again. The Hogsmeade forms weren't the only things at stake–if they carried on like that, they'd be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic.

Harry and Lucy were still an underage witch and wizard, and they were forbidden by wizard law to do magic outside of school. Their records weren't exactly clean either. Only last summer they'd gotten an official warning that had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic on Privet Drive, Harry and Lucy would both face expulsion from Hogwarts.

They heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried upstairs out of the way.

* * *

Harry and Lucy got through the next three days by Harry forcing himself to think about his _Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare_ and Lucy by constantly twisting the ring from her secret admirer on her finger whenever Aunt Marge started on them. This worked quite well, though it seemed to give Harry a glazed look and caused Lucy to be continuously moving her hands, because Aunt Marge started voicing the opinion that Harry was mentally subnormal and Lucy was much too jittery.

At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge's stay arrived. Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of either of the twins' faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them all with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?"

Aunt Marge had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.

"Just a small one, then," she chuckled. "A bit more than that… a bit more… that's the ticket."

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Harry and Lucy both really wanted to disappear into their bedroom, but they met Uncle Vernon's angry little eyes and knew they would have to sit it out.

"Aah," said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. "Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…." She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. "Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she went on, winking at Dudley. "You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon…. Now, these one's here–"

She jerked her head at Harry and Lucy, who both felt their stomachs clench. _The Handbook,_ Harry thought quickly as Lucy began to twist her ring.

"This boy's got a mean, runty look about him, and the girl is this meek, scared little mouse. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown a few last year. Ratty little things they were. Weak. Underbred."

Harry was trying to remember page twelve of his book: _A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reverses,_ while Lucy was desperately trying to memorize the groove pattern on the stone of her ring she was tracing with her thumb.

"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" –she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one– "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here our the results right in front of us."

Harry and Lucy were staring at their plates, a funny ringing in both their ears. _Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, _Harry thought while Lucy began to twist her ring on her finger over and over again as fast as she could. But Harry couldn't remember what came next, and Lucy couldn't keep her concentration on twisting her ring. Aunt Marge's voice seemed to be boring into them like one of Uncle Vernon's drills.

"This Potter," said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"He–didn't work," said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at the twins. "Unemployed."

"As I expected," said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who–"

"That's a lie."

"He was not."

The table went very quiet. Harry and Lucy were both shaking all over. Neither of them had ever felt so angry in their lives.

"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. "You two," he snarled at Harry and Lucy. "Go to bed, go on–"

"No, Vernon," hiccupped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry and Lucy. "Go on, you two, go on. Proud of your parents, are you both? They go and get themselves in a car crash (drunk, I expect) –"

"You're the drunk one!" Lucy all but screamed, jumping up at the same time as Harry.

"And they didn't die in a car crash!" he shouted.

"How dare you call me a drunk, girl, and they did too die in a car crash, you nasty little lying boy, and they you two to be burdens on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. "You two are insolent, ungrateful little–"

But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger–but the swelling didn't stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech–next second, several buttons had just burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls–she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami–

"MARGE!" yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together as Aunt Marge's whole body began to rise off her whole chair toward the ceiling. She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy little eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises. Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge's feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself. A second later, Ripper leapt forward and sank his teeth into Uncle Vernon's leg.

Harry and Lucy both tore from the dining room before anyone could stop them, heading for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as they reached it. In seconds, they had both heaved their trunks to the front door. They sprinted upstairs. Harry threw him self under his bed, wrenched open the loose floorboard, and grabbed the pillowcase full of their books and birthday presents. As he wriggled out, Lucy darted to their dresser, and emptied the contents of each drawer into her arms before dashing over to her bed, wiggling two pillows out of their pillowcases, and dumping all their clothes into them instead. Harry seized Hedwig's empty cage, and they dashed back downstairs to their trunks, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters.

"COME BACK IN HERE!" he bellowed. "COME BACK IN HERE AND PUT HER RIGHT!"

But a reckless rage had come over Harry and Lucy. They kicked their trunks open, pulled out their wands, and they pointed them at Uncle Vernon.

"We can handle her talking trash about us," Lucy snipped, "but she crossed the line when she insulted our parents."

"She deserved it," Harry said, breathing very fast. "She deserved what she got. You keep away from us."

He kept his wand pointed as Lucy turned around, and unlocked the door.

"We're leaving," Harry said. "We've had enough."

"Any place is better than here," Lucy said.

And in the next moment, they were out in the dark, quiet street, heaving their heavy trunks behind them, Hedwig's cage under Harry's arm, and the two pillowcases full of their clothes under Lucy's.


	3. The Knight Bus

******I know you're all expecting some sort of really, really good reason as to why I haven't updated this in so long, but the only real excuse I have is, I've been really busy. Homework, family, homework, working on my screenplay, and homework have kept me on my toes for the past few weeks.  
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**I know this isn't truly fair to say at all, but expect another long wait for the next chapter. Finals will be starting in two weeks, and I won't have time to either write, or copy-onto-my-laptop-from-my-notebook because I'll have to be studying as much as I can. Once Winter break starts, I'll be going on an updating frenzy to make up for all the waiting I've made you, my dear readers and reviewers, endure due to my meddlesome life.  
**

**Please, be patient for just two more weeks!  
**

**In any case in the meantime, please be sure to review!**

* * *

**Chapter Three:****The Knight Bus**

Harry and Lucy were several streets away before they both collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, both of them panting from the effort of dragging their trunks. They sat quite still, anger still surging through them, listening to the frantic thumping of their hearts.

They sat there on the dark street for nearly ten minutes. They Lucy broke the silence.

"What do we do now?"

It had been a whispered question to herself out loud, but as soon as it had been voiced, the twins immediately looked at one another as another emotion overtook both of them: panic.

"I think this might be the worst fix the two of us have ever been in," said Harry. "We're stranded in the middle of the night in the Muggle world, and we have no place to go."

"Forget that, Harry! There's something much worse we should be thinking about!"

"What?" Harry said sarcastically. "What could be any worse than our current predicament?"

"Harry, the two of us have just done serious magic!" said Lucy. "We've most likely been expelled from Hogwarts for breaking the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!"

Harry froze. Now that he stopped and thought about it, he was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren't swooping down on them where they sat.

Lucy blinked back tears and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent.

"What's going to happen to us, Harry?" she sobbed. "Do you think we're going to be arrested?" Harry shrugged before wrapping an arm over her shoulder, trying to calm her down.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Maybe the two of us will just be outlawed from the wizarding world."

"If only Ron and Hermione weren't out of the country!" Lucy exclaimed, burying her face into her hands. "Even if we are criminals now, I'm sure they would at least help us!"

"Even if they weren't, it wouldn't matter," said Harry glumly. "We sent Hedwig to Ron, remember? So we have no means of contacting them."

"Right… and neither of us have any Muggle money, either. Just a few handfuls of wizard gold somewhere at the bottom of our trunks."

"And the rest of our money is stored in our parents vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London."

"What're we going to do? We can't just walk along the road, dragging our trunks behind us, all the way to London!"

Harry looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand. An idea had come to him.

"Lucy," he said slowly. "If we're both already expelled, surely doing a bit more magic couldn't hurt, could it?"

"What do you mean?"

"We have our dad's Invisibility Cloak, right, What if we bewitch both our trunks to make them feather-light, tie both of them to one of our brooms, cover ourselves in the Cloak, and fly on that broom together to London? Then we can get the rest of our money out of our vaults and… begin our lives as outcasts, I guess…."

"Harry, there are so many things that could go wrong with that plan!"

"I know that, but we can't just sit on this wall forever! And if we don't do this, we'll probably find ourselves trying to explain to Muggle police why we're out in the dead of night with two trunkful's of spellbooks, two broomsticks, and all our clothes in pillowcases."

"I see your point. Is the Cloak in your trunk or mine?"

"Mine, I think."

Harry opened his trunk again and pushed the contents aside as Lucy peered over his shoulder, both of them looking for the Invisibility Cloak–but before they had found it, they both straightened up again, looking around them once more.

A funny prickling on the backs of their necks had made Harry and Lucy both feel they were being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses.

They both bent over Harry's trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, their hands clenched on their wands. They had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind them. The twins squinted at the black alleyway.

"What is that?" Lucy whispered.

"I don't know," Harry whispered back. "If only it would move, then we could see if it's just a stray cat or–something else…."

Neither of them took their eyes away from the alleyway.

"_Lumos,"_ Harry and Lucy both muttered, and lights appeared at the ends of their wands, almost dazzling them. They held them high over their heads, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry and Lucy both saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.

Lucy threw her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming as Harry stepped backward. His legs hit his trunk, and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and Lucy spun around in surprise as he landed, hard, in the gutter–

There was a deafening BANG, and Harry and Lucy threw up their hands to shield their eyes against a sudden blinding light–

With yells, Harry rolled and Lucy jumped back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where Harry and Lucy had just been. They belonged, as Harry saw when he raised his head and Lucy saw once she lowered her hands away from her eyes, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled _The Knight Bus._

A conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve–"

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on the ground, and Lucy, who was standing white-faced beside him. Harry snatched up his wand again as Lucy helped him back to his feet. Close up, they saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than they were, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large protruding ears and quite a few pimples.

"What were doin' down there?" said Stan, dropping his professional manner.

"Fell over," said Harry.

"'Choo fall over for?" sniggered Stan.

"He didn't do it on purpose," said Lucy, both of them getting annoyed. One of the knees in Harry's jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. Harry and Lucy both suddenly remembered why Harry had fallen over and they turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and the fence. The Knight Bus's headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty.

"'Choo you two lookin' at?" said Stan.

"There was a big black thing," said Harry, pointing uncertainly into the gap.

"It looked kind of like a dog," said Lucy. "But it was massive…"

They looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With feelings of unease, Harry and Lucy saw Stan's eyes move to the scar on Lucy's forehead.

"Woss that on your 'ead, girl?" said Stan abruptly.

"Nothing," said Lucy, quickly bending her head slightly as Harry flattened his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for them, they didn't want to make it too easy for them.

"Woss your names?" Stan persisted.

"Neville and Lavender Longbottom."

They were the first names that had come into Harry's head.

"So–so this bus," Harry went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, "did you say it goes _anywhere?"_

"Yep," said Stan proudly, "anywhere you want, long's it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater. 'Ere," he said, looking suspicious again, "you two_ did_ flag us down, dincha? One o' yeh stuck out your wand 'and, dincha?"

"Er–yes, yes we did," said Lucy quickly. "Um, how much would it cost for us to go to London?"

"Eleven Sickles each," said Stan, "but for firteen each you both get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen each you both get 'ot water bottles an' toofbrushes in colors of your choice."

Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his moneybag, and shoved some gold for himself and Lucy into Stan's hand. He, Lucy, and Stan then lifted both trunks, with Hedwig's cage balanced on top of Harry's, up the steps of the bus.

There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs," and rolled over in his sleep.

"You two 'ave these ones," Stan whispered, shoving Harry's trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel, and Lucy's under the bed right beside it. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville and Lavender Longbottom, Ern."

Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to the twins, who both nervously flattened their bangs again and sat down on their beds.

"Take 'er away, Ern," said Stan, sitting down in an armchair next to Ernie's.

There was a tremendous BANG, and the next moment Harry and Lucy found themselves flat on their beds, both thrown backwards by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling themselves up, Harry and Lucy both stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Harry and Lucy's stunned faces with great enjoyment.

"This is where we was before you two flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Ar," said Ernie.

"How come the Muggles don't hear the bus?" said Harry.

"Them!" said Stan contemptuously. "Don' listen properly, do they? Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'."

"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," said Ern. "We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute."

Stan passed Harry and Lucy's beds and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase. Harry and Lucy were still looking out the window, both feeling increasingly nervous. Ernie didn't seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel. The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn't hit anything; lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trashcans jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed.

Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a traveling cloak.

"'Ere you go, Madam Marsh," said Stan happily as Ern stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or so toward the front of the bus. Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Stan threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut, there was another loud BANG, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way.

Harry and Lucy wouldn't have been able to sleep even if they had been traveling on a bus that didn't keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time. Their stomachs churned as they fell back to wondering what was going to happen to them, and whether the Dursleys had managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling yet.

Stan had unfurled a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry and Lucy from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.

"That man!" Harry said, forgetting his and Lucy's troubles for a moment. "We recognize him!"

"That's right!" Lucy exclaimed. "We saw him on the Muggle news!"

Stan turned to the front page and chuckled.

"Sirius Black," he said, nodding. "'Course 'e was on the Muggle news. Neville, Lavender, where you two been?"

He gave a superior sort of chuckled at the blank looks on Harry and Lucy's faces, removed the front page, and handed it to Harry.

"You two oughta read the papers more, Neville, Lavender."

Lucy switched beds so that she could read it, too. Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and read:

**BLACK STILL AT LARGE**

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner

ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding

capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

"We are doing all we can to recapture Black,"

said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this

morning, "and we beg the magical community to

remain calm."

Fudge has been criticized by some members of

the International Federation of Warlocks for in–

forming the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an

irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to

anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have

the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not

breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone.

And let's face it–who'd believe him if he did?"

While Muggles have been told that Black is car–

rying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use

to kill each other), the magical community lives in

fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when

Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Harry and Lucy both looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Harry and Lucy had never met a vampire, but they had seen pictures of them in their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one.

"Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" said Stan, who had been watching Harry and Lucy read.

"He murdered _thirteen people?"_ said Harry, handing the page back to Stan, "with _one curse?"_

"Yep," said Stan, "in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar," said Ern darkly.

Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry and Lucy.

"Black was a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," he said.

"What you mean Voldemort?" said Lucy, without thinking.

Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus.

"You outta your tree?" yelped Stan. "'Choo say 'is name for?"

"S-sorry," said Lucy hastily. "Sorry, I–I wasn't thinking–"

"Wozzant thinkin'!" said Stan weakly. "Blimey, me 'eart's goin' that fast…."

"So–so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?" Harry prompted.

"Yeah," said Stan, still rubbing his chest. "Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say. Anyway, when little 'Arry an' 'Ucy Potter got the better of You-Know-'Oo–"

The twins nervously flattened their bangs down again.

"–all You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quietly. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.

"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

"What?" said Harry and Lucy.

"_Laughed," _said Stan. "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?"

"If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," said Ern in his slow voice. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you… after what he did…."

"They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?" Stan said. "'Ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?"

"Gas explosion," grunted Ernie.

"An' now 'e's out," said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"

Ernie suddenly shivered.

"Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."

Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry and Lucy exchanged looks, both of them feeling worse than ever. They couldn't help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights' time.

"'Ear about them Potter Twins? Blew up their aunt! We 'ad 'em 'ere on the Knight Bus, di'n't we, Ern? They woz tryin' to run for it…."

They, Harry and Lucy, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black. Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land them in Azkaban? Harry and Lucy didn't know anything about the wizard prison, though everyone they'd ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only last year. Harry and Lucy wouldn't soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid's face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people the twins knew.

The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Harry and Lucy lay, restless and miserable, on their feather beds. After a while, Stan remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate for himself and Lucy, but poured both of them all over Lucy's pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesea to Aberdeen. One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go.

Finally, Harry and Lucy were the only passengers left.

"Right then, Neville, Lavender," said Stan, clapping his hands, "whereabouts in London?"

"Diagon Alley," said Harry.

"Righto," said Stan. "'Old tight, then…"

BANG.

They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry and Lucy sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter. They would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off–where, they didn't know.

Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Thanks," Harry said to Stan.

He and Lucy jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower each of their trunks and Hedwig's cage onto the pavement.

"Bye," said Lucy. "Thanks again."

But Stan wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus, he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

"_There_ you both are, Harry, Lucy."

Before either Harry or Lucy could turn, they both felt a hand on one of their shoulders. At the same time, Stan shouted, "Blimey! Ern, come 'ere! Come _'ere!"_

The twins looked up at the owner of the hands on each of their shoulders and felt bucketful's of ice cascade into both of their stomachs–they had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself.

Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them.

"What didja call Neville and Lavender, Minister?" he said excitedly.

Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted.

"Neville and Lavender?" he repeated, frowning. "This is Harry and Lucy Potter."

"I knew it!" Stan shouted gleefully. "Ern! Ern! Guess 'oo Neville an' Lavender are, Ern! 'Ey're 'Arry an' 'Ucy Potter! I can see their scars!"

"Yes," said Fudge testily, "well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry and Lucy up, but both of them and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now."

Fudge increased the pressure on both their shoulders, and Harry and Lucy exchanged gloomy looks as they found themselves being steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord.

"You've got them, Minister!" said Tom. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

"Perhaps a pot of tea," said Fudge, who still hadn't let go of Harry or Lucy.

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying Harry and Lucy's trunks and Hedwig's cage and looking around excitedly.

"'Ow come you di'n't tell us 'oo you both are, eh, Neville, Lavender?" said Stan, beaming at Harry and Lucy, while Ernie's owlish face peered interestedly over Stan's shoulder.

"And a _private_ parlor, please, Tom," said Fudge pointedly.

"Bye," Harry and Lucy said miserably together to Stan and Ern as Tom beckoned Fudge toward the passage that led from the bar.

"Bye, Neville, Lavender!" called Stan.

Fudge marched Harry and Lucy along the narrow passage after Tom's lantern, and then into a small parlor. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room.

"Sit down, Harry, Lucy," said Fudge, indicating a pair of chairs by the fire.

Harry and Lucy sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up their arms despite the glow of the fire. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite the twins.

"I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry, Lucy. The Minister of Magic."

Harry and Lucy already knew this, of course; they had seen Fudge once before, but as they had been wearing their father's Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge wasn't to know that.

Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on the table between Fudge and Harry and Lucy and left the parlor, closing the door behind him.

"Well, Harry, Lucy," said Fudge, pouring out tea, "you two've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think… but you're both safe, and that's what matters."

Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Harry and Lucy.

"Eat, Harry, Lucy, you both look dead on your feet. Now then… You will both be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done."

Fudge smiled at Harry and Lucy over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying his favorite niece and nephew. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say, and closed it again. Lucy could only stare at Fudge with wide eyes. Neither of them could believe their ears.

"Ah, you're both worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" said Fudge. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, Lucy, but they are prepared to take you both back next summer as long as you both stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays."

Harry unstuck his throat.

"We _always_ stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays," he said, "and Lucy and I don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive."

"Now, now, I'm sure you'll both feel differently once you've both calmed down," said Fudge in a worried tone. "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other–er–_very_ deep down."

It didn't occur to either Harry or Lucy to put Fudge right. They were to still waiting to hear what was going to happen to them now.

"So all that remains," said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, "is deciding where you're both going to spend the last three weeks of your vacation. I suggest that both of you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and–"

"W-wait a minute," said Lucy suddenly. "What about our punishments?"

Fudge blinked.

"Punishments?"

"We broke the law!" Lucy said. "The Degree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!"

"Oh, my dear girl, we're not going to punish either of you for a little thing like that!" cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!"

But this didn't tally at all with Harry and Lucy's past dealings with the Ministry of Magic.

"Last year, we got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in our uncle's house!" Harry told Fudge, frowning. "The Ministry of Magic said we'd both be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!"

Unless Harry and Lucy's eyes were deceiving them, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward.

"Circumstances change, Harry, Lucy…. We have to take into account… in the present climate… Surely neither of you _want_ to be expelled?"

"N-no!" said Lucy.

"Of course we don't," said Harry.

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" laughed Fudge. "Now, have a crumpet, Harry, Lucy, while I go and see if Tom's got a room for both of you."

Fudge strode out of the parlor and Harry and Lucy stared after him before staring at each other.

"Lucy, there's something extremely odd going on here."

"I know. Why was Fudge waiting here for us at the Leaky Cauldron if we're not going to be punished for what we did to Aunt Marge?"

"And why did Fudge come at all? I mean, surely it isn't necessary for the Minister of Magic _himself_ to get involved with the matter of underage magic?"

Before Harry and Lucy could ponder these questions thoroughly, Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper.

"Room eleven has two beds free, Harry, Lucy," said Fudge. "I think you'll both be very comfortable. Just one thing, and I'm sure you'll both understand… I don't want either of you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And both of you are to be back here before dark each night. Sure you'll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you two for me."

"Okay," said Harry slowly, "but why–"

"Don't want to lose you two again, do we?" said Fudge with a hearty laugh. "No, no… best we know where you both are… I mean…"

Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak.

"Well, I'll be off, plenty to do, you know…."

"Oh, Minister, have you had any luck with finding Sirius Black yet?" Lucy asked.

Fudge's fingers slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.

"What's that? Oh, you've both heard–well, no, not yet, but it's only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed… and they are angrier than I've ever seen them."

Fudge shuddered slightly.

"So, I'll say goodbye."

He held out his hand, and Harry, shaking it after Lucy, had a sudden idea.

"Er–Minister? Can we ask you something?"

"Certainly," said Fudge with a smile.

Well, third years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade, but our aunt and uncle didn't sign the permission forms. D'you think you could–?"

Fudge was looking uncomfortable.

"Ah," he said. "No, no, I'm very sorry, Harry, Lucy, but as I'm not your parent or guardian–"

"But you're the Minister of Magic," said Lucy eagerly. "If you gave us permission–"

"No, I'm sorry, Harry, Lucy, but rules are rules," said Fudge flatly. "Perhaps you'll both be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, I think it's best if you two don't… yes… well, I'll be off. Enjoy your stay, Harry, Lucy."

And with a last smile and shake of Harry and Lucy's hands, Fudge left the room. Tom now moved forward, beaming at Harry and Lucy.

"If you'll both follow me, Mr. Potter, Miss Potter," he said, "I've already taken your things up…."

Harry and Lucy followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for them.

Inside were two very comfortable-looking beds, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe–

"Hedwig!" Harry and Lucy gasped.

The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Lucy's arm.

"Very smart owl you've both got there," chuckled Tom. "Arrived about five minutes after you two did. If there's anything either of you need, Mr. Potter, Miss Potter, don't hesitate to ask."

He gave another bow and left.

Harry and Lucy sat on one of the beds for a long time in silence, both them absentmindedly stroking Hedwig. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold.

"I can't believe we left Privet Drive only a couple hours ago, Harry," said Lucy, breaking the silence as she moved to sit on the other bed.

"Yeah, and I can't believe that neither of us are expelled," said Harry.

"And now, we have three entirely Dursley-free weeks!" said Lucy giddily.

"I have to say, Luce," said Harry, yawning, "It's most definitely been a very weird night."

"You can say that again, Harry," Lucy muttered as she stretched out on her bed.

They both slumped back onto the pillows on their beds, and they both fell fast asleep.


	4. The Leaky Cauldron

******I know I said I wouldn't be updating until finals were over, but frankly I needed a break from studying and simply decided to finish typing this chapter up. It's the longest so far in this book! But let me just say, the length of this chapter is NOTHING compared to next chapter! Don't forget, next chapter is when Lucy goes back to Hogwarts, and things will really begin to unfold for her! Just one more chapter, people! One more, and all your patience will have been worth the wait! In the mean time, I hope you like this chapter!  
**

**Please, be sure to read and review!**

* * *

**Chapter Four:****The Leaky Cauldron**

It took Harry and Lucy several days to get used to their strange new freedom. Never before had they been able to get up whenever they wanted or eat whatever they fancied. They could go wherever they pleased, as long as it was in Diagon Alley, and as this long cobbled street was packed with the most fascinating wizarding shops in the world, Harry and Lucy felt no desire to break their word to Fudge and stray back into the Muggle world.

The twins ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where they liked watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for a day's shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in _Transfiguration Today;_ wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava.

After breakfast, Harry and Lucy would go out into the backyard, one of them would take out their wand, tap the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall.

Harry and Lucy spent long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where their fellow diners were showing one another their purchases ("it's a lunascope, old boy–no more messing around with moon charts, see?") or else discussing the case of Sirius Black ("personally, I won't let any of the children out alone until he's back in Azkaban"). Harry and Lucy didn't have take turns doing their homework under the blankets by a shared flashlight anymore; now they could sit in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, working together to finish all their essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about witch burnings, gave Harry and Lucy free sundaes every half an hour.

Once Harry and Lucy had refilled their moneybags with gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts from their vault at Gringotts, they had to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once. Lucy had to repeatedly remind Harry that they had five years still to go at Hogwarts, and how they would feel to ask the Dursleys for money for their spellbooks, to stop him from buying a handsome set of solid gold Gobstones (a wizarding game rather like marbles, in which the stones squirt a nasty-smelling liquid into the other player's face when they lost a point), Harry nearly had to drag Lucy away from an expensive set of phoenix feather paintbrushes that did not require any magical paints to create moving paintings. Both of them were sorely tempted, too, by the perfect, moving models of the galaxy in large glass balls, which would have meant they never had to take another Astronomy lesson. But the thing that tested both Harry and Lucy's resolutions most appeared in their favorite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, a week after they'd arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry and Lucy edged their way inside and squeezed among the excited witches and wizards until they glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom they had ever seen in their lives.

"Just come out–prototype–" a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion.

"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" squeaked a boy younger than Harry and Lucy, who was swinging off his father's arm.

"Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!" the proprietor of the shop told the crowd, "And they're the favorites for the World Cup!"

A large witch in front of Harry and Lucy moved, and they were able to read the sign next to the broom.

_THE FIREBOLT_

_This state-of-the-art racing broom sports a stream_–

_lined, superfine handle of ash, treated with a_

_diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own_

_registration number. Each individually selected birch_

_twig in the broomtail has been honed to aerodynamic_

_perfection, giving the Firebolt unsurpassable balance_

_and pinpoint precision. The Firebolt has an acceleration_

_of 150 miles an hour in ten seconds and incorporates_

_an unbreakable Breaking Charm. Price on request._

Price on request… Harry and Lucy didn't like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. Neither of them had ever wanted anything as much in their whole lives–but they had never lost a Quidditch match on their Nimbus Two Thousand's, and what was the point in emptying their Gringotts vault for two Firebolts, when they both had very good brooms already? Harry and Lucy didn't ask for the price, but they returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt.

There were, however, things that Harry and Lucy needed to buy. They went to the Apothecary to replenish their stores of potions ingredients, and as their school robes were now several inches too short in the arm leg, and in Lucy's case and much to her embarrassment, too tight across her chest, they visited Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions and bought new ones. Most important of all, they had to buy their new schoolbooks, which would include those for their two shared new subjects, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, and the additional two Lucy would also be taking, Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes.

Harry and Lucy got a surprise as they looked in at the bookshop window. Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters._ Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, looked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively.

Harry and Lucy both pulled their booklists out of their pockets and consulted them for the first time. _The Monster Book of Monsters _was listed as the required book for Care of Magical Creatures. Harry and Lucy looked at one another and laughed.

"Well," said Lucy, "at least now we know why Hagrid said they would be useful to us."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'd been wondering whether Hagrid wanted our help with some terrifying new pet of his."

As the twins entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying toward them.

"Both of you Hogwarts?" he said abruptly. "Come to get your new books?"

"Yes," said Harry, "we need–"

"Get out of the way," said the manager impatiently, brushing Harry and Lucy aside. He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobby walking stick, and proceeded toward the door of the _Monster Books' _cage.

"Wait, please," said Lucy quickly. "We've already got our copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters."_

"Have you?" A look of enormous relief spread over the manager's face. "Thank heavens for that. I've been bitten five times already this morning–"

A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the _Monster Books_ had seized a third and were pulling it apart.

"Stop it! Stop it!" cried the manager, poking the walking stick through the bars and knocking the books apart. "I'm never stocking them again, never! It's been bedlam! I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of the _Invisible Book of Invisibility_–cost a fortune, and we never found them…. Well… is there anything else I can help you both with?"

"Yes," said Harry, looking down his and Lucy's booklists, "we both need _Unfogging the Future_ by Cassandra Vablatsky."

"Ah, starting Divination, are you?" said the manager, stripping off his gloves and leading Harry and Lucy into the back of the shop, where there was a corner devoted to fortune telling. A small table was stacked with volumes such as _Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks_ and_ Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul._

"Here we are," said the manager, who had climbed a set of steps to take down two thick, black-bound books. _"Unfogging the Future. _Very good guide to all your basic fortune telling methods–palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails–"

But Harry and Lucy weren't listening. Their eyes had fallen on another book, which was among a display on a small table: _Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming._

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," said the manager lightly, looking to see what Harry and Lucy were staring at. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death."

But the twins continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly familiar….

The manager pressed both copies of _Unfogging the Future_ into Harry's hands.

"Anything else?" he said.

"Yes," said Harry, tearing his eyes away from the dog's and dazedly consulting his booklist. "Er–we both need _Intermediate Transfiguration_ and_ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three,_ and my sister is taking a few other classes. What other books do you still need, Lucy…. Lucy?"

Lucy didn't reply. She had picked up the book_ Death Omens,_ and had begun flipping through its pages. After a few moments, she shut it, nodded to herself, and tucked it under her arm.

"I think I'll take this as well," she explained, seeing the manager's and Harry's astounded faces.

"Oh, well, very well…." Said the manager awkwardly, staring from the book to Lucy. "Um–your brother said you'll be needing a few more books for extra classes…?"

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, taking out her own booklist. "I need _Numerology and Grammatica _by Bridget Wenlock, _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ by Laurenzoo, _Spellman's Syllabary _by Spellman, and _The Rune Dictionary."_

Harry and Lucy emerged from Flourish and Blotts ten minutes later with their new books under their arms–though Lucy kept dropping hers repeatedly–and made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, hardly noticing where they were going and bumping into several people.

They tramped up the stairs to their room, went inside, and tipped their books onto their beds. Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and sun was pouring inside. They could hear the buses rolling by in the unseen Muggle street behind them and the sound of the invisible crowd below in Diagon Alley.

"Lucy," said Harry nervously, "why did you buy that book?"

"I… I don't know…" she admitted. "I guess because of what we saw before we got on The Knight Bus–"

"It can't have been a death omen," he said defiantly, turning to face his reflection in the mirror over the basin. "We were panicking when the two of us saw that thing in Magnolia Crescent…. It was probably just a stray dog…."

"But, Harry… what if it wasn't? What if it was–?"

"It wasn't, Lucy!"

Harry raised his hand automatically and tried to make his hair lie flat.

"You're fighting a losing battle there, dear," said the mirror in a wheezy voice to Harry.

* * *

As the days slipped by, Harry and Lucy started looking wherever they went for a sign of Ron or Hermione. Plenty of Hogwarts students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near. Harry and Lucy met Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, their fellow Gryffindors, in Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they too were ogling the Firebolt; they also ran into the real Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, forgetful boy, outside Flourish and Blotts. They didn't stop to chat; Neville appeared to have mislaid his booklist and was being told off by his very formidable-looking grandmother. Harry and Lucy both hoped she never found out that Harry had pretended to be Neville while they were on the run from the Ministry of Magic, and that Lucy had technically just used his last name with her own. It was sheer luck that they never met the real Lavender Brown, one of their fellow Gryffindor girl peers that Lucy had used the first name of that night.

"Do you think we'll find Ron and Hermione on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow, Harry?" Lucy asked as they strolled down Diagon Alley for one last look at the Firebolt. It was now the last day of the holidays, and they still hadn't found their friends. Harry simply shrugged.

"I guess," he said gloomily. "I'm kind of sad about that, Luce. I was hoping we would have some time to hang out with them before school started."

"Me too, but what can we do?" said Lucy. "Anyway, do you think we should head back to the Leaky Cauldron after this for lunch?"

"Hm… that sounds–"

"Harry! Lucy! OVER HERE!"

Someone had yelled their names, and they turned. They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream parlor–Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at them.

"Finally!" said Ron, grinning at Harry and Lucy as they sat down. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd both left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and–"

"We already bought all of our school supplies," Lucy explained.

"And how come you know we're staying at the Leaky Cauldron?" Harry asked.

"Dad," said Ron simply.

Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course had heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge.

"Did you guys _really_ blow up your aunt, Harry, Lucy?" said Hermione in a very serious voice.

"F-first of all," said Lucy nervously. "Sh-she wasn't really our aunt. Secondly, it was an a-accident."

"We didn't mean to," said Harry, while Ron roared with laughter. "We just–lost control."

"It's not funny, Ron," said Hermione sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry and Lucy weren't expelled."

"So are we," admitted Harry. "Forget expelled. We thought we were going to be arrested." He looked at Ron. "You dad doesn't know why Fudge let us off, does he?"

"Probably 'cause it's you two, isn't it?" shrugged Ron, still chuckling. "Famous Potter Twins and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to _me_ if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can both ask Dad yourselves this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So both of you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!"

Hermione nodded, beaming. "Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things."

"That's great!" said Lucy happily. "So, have both of you gotten all of your new books and stuff?"

"Look at this," said Ron, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn-tail hair. And we've got all our books–" He pointed at a large bag under his chair. "What about those _Monster Books,_ eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two."

"What's all that, Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her. "You've almost got as much stuff as Lucy."

"Well, we're taking more classes than you, aren't we?" said Hermione. "These are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies–"

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry and Lucy. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!"

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," said Hermione earnestly.

"Are you and Hermione planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Lucy?" asked Harry, while Ron sniggered. Lucy stuck out her tongue, but Hermione ignored them.

"I've still got ten Galleons," she said, checking her purse. "It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."

"How about a nice _book?"_ said Ron innocently.

"No, I don't think so," said Hermione composedly. "I really want an owl. I mean, Harry and Lucy's got Hedwig, and you've got Errol–"

"I haven't," said Ron. "Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers." He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket. "And I want to get him checked over," he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front of them. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers.

"There's a magical creature shop right over there," said Lucy, she and Harry knowing Diagon Alley very well by now. "You can see if they've got anything for Scabbers, Ron, and Hermione can get her owl."

So they paid for their ice cream and crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie.

There wasn't much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages. It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering, or hissing. The witch behind the counter was already advising a wizard on the care of double-ended newts, so Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione waited, examining the cages.

A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window. Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of the their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise. Then there were cats of every color, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-colored furballs that were humming loudly, and on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats that were playing some sort of skipping game using their long, bald tails.

The double-ended newt wizard left, and Ron approached the counter.

"It's my rat," he told the witch. "He's been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt."

"Bang him on the counter," said the witch, pulling a pair of heavy black spectacles out of her pocket.

Ron lifted Scabbers out of his inside pocket and placed him next to the cage of his fellow rats, who stopped their skipping tricks and scuffled to the wire for a better look.

Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was second-hand (he had once belonged to Ron's brother Percy) and a bit battered. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone.

"Hm," said the witch, picking up Scabbers. "How old is this rat?"

"Dunno," said Ron. "Quite old. He used to belong to my brother."

"What powers does he have?" said the witch, examining Scabbers closely.

"Er–" the truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers. The witch's eyes moved from Scabbers tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly.

"He's been through the mill, this one," she said.

"He was like that when Percy gave him to me," said Ron defensively.

"An ordinary common or garden rat like this can't be expected to live longer than three years or so," said the witch. "Now if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these–"

She indicated the black rats, who promptly started skipping again. Ron muttered, "Show-offs."

"Well, if you don't want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic," said the witch, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle.

"Okay," said Ron. "How much–OUCH!"

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!" cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door.

"Scabbers!" Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry followed.

Hermione and Lucy were left alone in the shop, staring wildly after Harry and Ron.

"Can I help either of you?" said the witch suddenly, bringing both girls back to the present.

"Oh–um–Hermione, didn't you say you wanted to buy an owl?" Lucy asked.

"Actually, could I see that cat, please?" Hermione said, nodding at the orange cat the witch was now holding in her arms.

"Ah, taken a liking to Crookshanks, have you?" said the witch, setting the cat on the counter so Hermione and Lucy could get a better look at him.

The cat's ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall. Now that Scabbers was out of sight, however, the cat was purring contentedly on the counter.

"He's certainly cute," Lucy commented.

"I'm in love," said Hermione.

"You girl's are the first to ever think so," said the witch. "Crookshanks here has been in this shop ever since he was a kitten, but no one's ever wanted him."

"Well, I do," said Hermione promptly. "How much is he?"

"Seven Galleons," said the witch.

Less than ten minutes later, Lucy and Hermione emerged from Magical Menagerie, the enormous ginger cat clamped tightly in Hermione's arms, to see Harry and Ron making their way back up the crowded street to reach them.

"You _bought_ that monster?" said Ron, his mouth hanging open.

"Isn't he just _gorgeous?"_ said Lucy, glowing as she gently petted Crookshanks' head.

"Hermione, Lucy, that thing nearly scalped me!" said Ron.

"He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" said Hermione.

"And what about Scabbers?" said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

"That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic," said Lucy, slapping the small red bottle into Ron's hand.

"And stop _worrying,"_ said Hermione, "Crookshanks will be sleeping in our dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been there for ages; no one wanted him."

"I wonder why," said Ron sarcastically as they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

They found Mr. Weasley sitting at the bar, reading the _Daily Prophet._

"Harry! Lucy!" he said, smiling as he looked up. "How are both of you?"

"Fine, thanks," said Harry as he, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione joined Mr. Weasley with all their shopping.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Weasley," said Lucy kindly.

"And you as well," he replied, putting down his paper, and Harry and Lucy saw the now familiar picture of Sirius Black staring up at them.

"They still haven't caught him, then?" Harry asked.

"No," said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" asked Ron. "It'd be good to get some more money–"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," said Mr. Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys' youngest child and only girl, Ginny.

Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him and Lucy, perhaps because they had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts. She went very red and muttered "hello" while keeping her eyes fixed solely on Lucy, not looking at Harry, when Lucy promptly greeted her with a smile. They had become rather good friends near the end of last year. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry and Lucy had never met and said, "Harry, Lucy. How nice to see both of you."

"Hello, Percy," said Harry and Lucy together, both of them trying not to laugh.

"I hope you're both well?" said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

"Very well, thanks–"

"We're good, how are–"

"Harry! Lucy!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply _splendid_ to see you both, old chaps–"

"Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing both Harry and Lucy's hands in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

Percy scowled.

"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum!" said Fred as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand too. "How really corking to see you–"

"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. "Hello, Harry, Lucy, dears. I suppose both of you have heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.

"At last," Fred muttered under his breath.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny giggled.

"You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"Ginny's got other brother's to set her an example, Mother," said Percy loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner…."

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh.

"We tried to shut him in a pyramid," he told Harry and Lucy. "But Mum spotted us."

* * *

Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor, and the seven Weasleys, Harry, Lucy, and Hermione ate their way through five delicious courses.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" ask Fred as they dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding.

"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," said Mr. Weasley.

Everyone looked up at him.

"Why?" said Percy curiously.

"It's because of you, Perce," said George seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them–"

"–for Humongous Bighead," said Fred.

Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted into their pudding.

"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again, in a dignified voice.

"Well, as we haven't got one anymore," said Mr. Weasley, "–and as I work there, they're doing me a favor–"

His voice was casual, but Harry and Lucy couldn't help noticing that Mr. Weasley's ears had gone red, just like Ron's did when he was under pressure.

"Good thing, too," said Mrs. Weasley briskly. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground…. You are all packed, aren't you?"

"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," said Percy, in a long-suffering voice. "He's dumped them on my bed."

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs. Weasley called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy.

After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day. Lucy was just following Harry into their room, when Hermione suddenly walked up to her.

"Lucy, I just remembered, I haven't given you your birthday present yet, have I?"

"Oh, no," said Lucy, remembering for the first time about Hermione's postponed birthday present for her. "I almost forgot all about that."

"I have it wrapped up in my room right now. Would you like to come and get it?"

"Er–okay." She turned to Harry. "Guess I'll be right back, then."

Harry nodded, and both girls set off down the hall to room seventeen.

"I do hope you like it," said Hermione as they entered her room. "I wanted to get you something that would help you out with your shy nature this year."

"Wh-what do you mean, Hermione?" Lucy stuttered, not understanding what she was talking about. "It's a _Broomstick Servicing Kit,_ right?"

"Well, yes," she said, opening her trunk and shuffling through its contents. _"The Broomstick Servicing Kit_ is something like a shared present for both you and Harry, but I also got you something extra, Lucy, something that I'm sure you'd prefer that I give you in private rather than in front of Harry. That's actually the real reason why I didn't send your present with Hedwig on your birthday."

Lucy watched quietly, but nervously, as Hermione took various things out of her trunk as she muttered "where is it… where is it…" under her breath, wondering what it was that Hermione got her. At last she pulled out another leather case of _The Broomstick Servicing Kit_ as well as a thin, square-shaped wrapped present.

"Happy belated birthday, Lucy," said Hermione bright as Lucy took both of the gifts.

"Thanks," said Lucy, sitting down on the edge of Hermione's bed to unwrap the mystery gift. Her cheeks went bright red as she pulled away the last of the wrapping paper. Hermione had gotten her _The Teen Witch's Guide on First Love._

"H-Hermione…!" Lucy nearly shrieked with embarrassment, causing the people in the next room over to bang on the wall and shout of them to be quiet. Hermione smiled.

"I figured it would be useful for you, considering you're so shy around Dr–oh, I mean–your _crush,"_ she quickly amended, knowing that it was entirely possible that the boys could hear them and that Lucy didn't want them to know who she liked, "and that you also have a secret admirer now, which, by the way, I see has given you a birthday present, too."

Lucy felt her cheeks burn more than ever as she fought the urge to glance down at her wrist and look at her new bracelet.

"Y-you… you d-don't know what you're t-talking about, H-Hermione," she said after several long moments. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I think I do, Lucy," she said with a sly smile, "And like I said when we were getting off the Hogwarts Express at the end of last year, I still think your crush and your secret admirer are the same–"

"Th-thanks again f-for the presents! G-good night!" Lucy spluttered before darting out the door as fast as she could. Her heart hammered in her chest as she raced down the corridor, vowing to herself to bury the book into the bottom of her trunk and to never look at it again. Harry looked up as she entered their room.

"Hey, did you get the _Broomstick Servicing Kit_ from Hermione?"

"Oh–um–yeah," she said, trying to hide her bright red cheeks as she headed straight to her trunk to hide the book from him. "Just need to pack it away, now."

Before Harry could reply, they both looked over at the wall, where their next door neighbors, Ron and Percy, could be heard as they spoke in angry voices.

"Let's go see what's going on," said Harry, hopping off his bed and heading out the door. Not wanting to be alone thinking about what Hermione had said, Lucy locked up her trunk and briskly followed him.

The door of number twelve was ajar and Percy was shouting.

"It was _here,_ on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing–"

"I haven't touched it, alright?" Ron roared back.

"What's up?" said Harry.

"My Head Boy badge is gone," said Percy, rounding on Harry and Lucy.

"So's Scabbers's rat tonic," said Ron, throwing things out of his trunk to look. "I think I might've left it in the bar–"

"You're not going anywhere till you've found my badge!" yelled Percy.

"I-I'll get it for you, I'm already done packing," Lucy said to Ron, trying hard not to squeak, and she went downstairs.

"Wait up, Luce, I'll help you look for it," said Harry, hurrying down the steps after her.

They were halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when they both heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlor. A second later, they recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's. They hesitated, not wanting them to know they'd heard them arguing, when the sound of their own names made both of them stop, then move closer to the parlor door.

"…makes no sense not to tell them," Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. "Harry and Lucy have got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry and Lucy both like children. They are both thirteen years old and–"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify them!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. "Do you really want to send Harry and Lucy back to school with that hanging over them? For heaven's sake, they're _happy_ not knowing!"

"I don't want to make them miserable, I want to put them on their guard!" retorted Mr. Weasley. "You know what Harry and Lucy are like, wandering off by themselves–they've even ended up in the Forbidden Forest! But they mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to both of them that night they ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked them up, I'm prepared to bet they would have been dead before the Ministry found them."

"But they're _not_ dead, they're fine, so what's the point–"

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been a month, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the _Daily Prophet,_ we're no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after–"

"But Harry and Lucy will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."

"But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry and Lucy–"

There was a thud on wood, and Harry and Lucy were sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table.

"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead for sure, and who's not to say Lucy, too? If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry and Lucy will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry and Lucy stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…."

There was a silence. Harry and Lucy both leaned still closer to the door, desperate to hear more.

"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry or Lucy at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's headmaster. I suppose he knows all about this?"

"Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that… but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save Harry and Lucy–"

"–then I will never say another word against them," said Mr. Weasley wearily. "It's late, Molly, we'd better go up…."

Harry and Lucy heard chairs move. As quietly as they could, they hurried down the passage to the bar and out of sight. The parlor door opened and a few seconds later footsteps told them that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were climbing the stairs.

The bottle of rat tonic was lying under the table they had sat at earlier. The twins waited until they heard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom door close, and then headed back upstairs with the bottle.

Fred and George were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Percy dismantling his and Ron's room in search of his badge.

"We've got it," Fred whispered to Harry and Lucy. "We've been improving it."

The badge now read _Bighead Boy._

Harry and Lucy both forced laughs, went to give Ron the rat tonic, then shut themselves in their room and laid down on their beds.

"So," said Harry, breaking the strained silence between them, "Sirius Black is after us. This explains everything." Lucy nodded.

"Why Fudge was so lenient with us," she said. "It wasn't because blowing up Aunt Marge was an accident; he was just relieved to find us alive."

"And he made us promise to stay in Diagon Alley where there were plenty of wizards to keep an eye on both of us."

"And that's why he's sending two Ministry cars to take all of us to King's Cross station tomorrow, so Mr. and Mrs. Weasley can look after us until we're both safely on the Hogwarts Express."

They fell silent again as they listened to the muffled shouting next door.

"Strange," said Harry, breaking the silence for the second time.

"What's strange, Harry?"

"That I don't feel all that scared. Are you scared, Lucy?"

"A little I guess, but not as scared as I know I should be."

"That's how I feel, too. I mean, we both know that Sirius Black murdered thirteen people with one curse, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley obviously think we'll both be panic-stricken if we know the truth. Yet oddly enough, neither of us are."

"Personally, Harry, I happen to agree entirely with what Mrs. Weasley said, that the safest place on earth is wherever Albus Dumbledore happens to be."

"That's right. People always say that Dumbledore was the only person Voldemort had ever been afraid of, after all. Surely Black, as Voldemort's right-hand man, would be just as frightened of him?"

"And then there's those Azkaban guards everyone keeps talking about. They seem to scare people senseless, and if they're to be stationed all around the school, Black's chances of getting in seem pretty scarce to me."

"If anything, Luce, the thing that bothers me the most is the fact that our chances of visiting Hogsmeade now look to be about zero."

"Mmm."

"Nobody's going to want us leaving the safety of the castle until Black's been caught. You know, I suspect our every moves will be carefully watched until the danger's passed."

"Mmm."

It was the only reply Lucy could think up right then. She couldn't help feeling conflicted. Part of her could see where Harry was coming from. People thought they couldn't look after themselves, but they weren't completely useless. They had, after all, escaped from Lord Voldemort three times already….

But still, the image of the beast in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent crossed her mind. It really did look like the dog on the cover of _What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming…_

As though he could read her thoughts, Harry abruptly sat up and turned to face her.

"Lucy, we're _not_ going to be murdered," he said firmly.

"That's the spirit, dear," said their mirror sleepily.


	5. The Dementor

**Happy Holidays Everyone! And Happy New Year!  
**

**I hope you all had fun over the holidays! I know I did! I got that new Harry Potter game for the Playstation 3: 'Book of Spells.' That's the main reason for this long overdue update. I was having so much fun playing it, I wasn't thinking about all of you, my dear readers and reviewers. So sorry!  
**

**Oh, that reminds me. I have important news. Although I haven't finished writing the next chapter yet on paper, I will say this: Unless I get at least three reviews for this chapter, the next chapter will not be uploaded even when it is finished. Now, normally I don't make conditions about posting chapters, but have any of you ever posted a chapter that did not get even ONE review? Do you know what that makes a writer feels? Well, I'll tell you: terrible. No one posted ANY reviews for the last chapter! That truly stung, to know that no one had anything good or bad to say about last chapter, especially when Hermione gave Lucy her birthday present! I thought for sure there would be at least a dozen reviews from people cracking up about it! So please, PLEASE review this chapter to make up for last chapter's disappointments!  
**

**For the first three reviewers that reply to this chapter will receive a sneak peek of an upcoming Lucy/Draco moment! Trust me, folks, it's awesome!  
**

**Well, enough rambling. Please, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Five:****The Dementor**

Tom woke Harry and Lucy the next morning with his usual toothless grin and two cups of tea. They got dressed and were just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.

"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his _girlfriend._ She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy…."

"We've got something to tell you," Harry began, but they were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly.

"What were you guys saying?" Ron asked as they sat down.

"We'll tell you later," Lucy muttered as Percy stormed in.

Harry and Lucy had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig and Hermes, Percy's screech owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.

"It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train."

"You won't," snapped Ron. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?"

He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket.

Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.

"They're here," he said. "Harry, Lucy, come on."

Mr. Weasley marched Harry and Lucy across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.

"In you both get, Harry, Lucy," said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street.

The twins got into the back of the car and were shortly joined by Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron's disgust, Percy.

The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry and Lucy's trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary, though Harry and Lucy noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon's new company car certainly couldn't have managed. They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.

Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry and Lucy's elbows all the way into the station.

"Right then," he said, glancing around them. "Let's do this in two and three's, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Harry and Lucy."

Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platform nine and ten, pushing Harry and Lucy's trolleys and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With meaningful looks at Harry and Lucy, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry and Lucy both imitated him.

In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry and Lucy. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run.

"Ah, there's Penelope!" said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Ginny caught Harry and Lucy's eyes, and all three of them turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge.

Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione had joined them, Harry, Lucy, and Ron led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments to a carriage that looked quite empty. They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Hedwig and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, and finally, Harry and Lucy. They were both embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave each of them an extra hug.

"Do take care, won't you, Harry, Lucy?" she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, "I've made you all sandwiches…. Here you are, Ron… no, they're not corned beef…. Fred? Where's Fred? Here you are, dear…."

"Harry, Lucy," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "come over here a moment."

He jerked his head toward a pillar, and Harry and Lucy followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasley.

"There's something I've got to tell both of you before you leave–" said Mr. Weasley, in a tense voice.

"It's all right, Mr. Weasley," said Harry. "We already know."

"You know? How could you know?"

"We–er–we sort of overheard you and Mrs. Weasley talking last night in the parlor. It was an accident!" Lucy added quickly. "We're sorry–"

"That's not the way I'd have chosen for the two of you to find out," said Mr. Weasley, looking anxious.

"No–honestly, it's okay," said Harry. "This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge and Lucy and I know what's going on."

"Harry, Lucy, both of you must be very scared–"

"We're not," said Harry sincerely.

"_Really,"_ Lucy added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. "We're not trying to be heroes, but really, Sirius Black can't be any worse that Voldemort, can he?"

Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name, but overlooked it.

"Harry, Lucy, I know the two of you were, well, made of stronger stuff that Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that neither of you are scared, but–"

"Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"They're coming, Molly!" said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and Lucy and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. "Listen, I want you two to give me your words–"

"–that we'll be good kids?"

"–and stay in the castle?"

They both spoke gloomily.

"Not entirely," said Mr. Weasley, who looked more serious that Harry or Lucy had ever seen him. "Harry, Lucy–no, you in particular, Lucy–swear to me you won't go _looking _for Black."

Harry and Lucy stared. "What?"

There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train, slamming all the doors shut.

"Promise me, Harry, Lucy–especially you, Lucy–" said Mr. Weasley, talking more quickly still, "that whatever happens–"

"Why would we go looking for someone we know wants to kill us?" said Harry blankly.

"And why do you want me in particular not to go looking for him?" said Lucy curiously.

"Swear to me that whatever either of you might hear–"

"Arthur, quickly!" cried Mrs. Weasley.

Steam was billowing from the train; it had started to move. Harry and Lucy ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let them both on. They leaned out of the window at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.

"We need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed.

"Go away, Ginny," said Ron.

"Oh, that's nice," said Ginny huffily, and she stalked off.

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train.

This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart.

The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," whispered Hermione at once.

"How d'you know that?"

"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name _Professor R. J. Lupin_ was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

"Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile.

"That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione had already had two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, both of whom had lasted only one year. There were rumors that the job was jinxed.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway…" He turned to Harry and Lucy. "What were you guys going to tell us?"

Harry and Lucy took turns explaining all about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given them. When they'd finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after _both of you?_ Oh, Harry, Lucy… you'll both have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble–"

"Hermione, Harry and I don't go _looking _for trouble," said Lucy sarcastically.

"Yeah," Harry added. "Trouble usually finds _us."_

"How thick would Harry and Lucy have to be to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill them?" said Ron shakily. "And what did Dad mean, that you in particular shouldn't go looking for him, Lucy?"

Lucy shrugged. "I'm not sure. Your dad didn't get a chance to tell us."

"Lot of help that advice is, then," Ron mumbled.

They were taking the news worse than Harry and Lucy had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to me much more frightened of Black than they were.

"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," said Ron uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" said Hermione earnestly. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too…."

"What're those noises?" said Ron suddenly.

Faint, tiny sort of whistles were coming from somewhere. They looked all around the compartment.

"They're coming from your trunks, Harry, Lucy," said Ron, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscopes out from between Harry and Lucy's robes. They were both spinning very fast in the palms of Ron's hands and glowing brilliantly.

"Are those _Sneakoscopes?"_ said Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look.

"Yeah… mind you, they're very cheap one's," Ron said. "They went haywire just as I was tying them to Errol's leg to send them to Harry and Lucy."

"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" said Hermione shrewdly.

"No! Well… I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys… but how else was I supposed to get Harry and Lucy's presents to them?"

"Stick them back in the trunks," Harry advised as the Sneakoscopes whistled piercingly, "or they'll wake him up."

He nodded toward Professor Lupin. Ron stuffed both of the Sneakoscopes into particularly horrible pairs of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sounds, then closed both lids of the trunks on them.

"We could get them checked in Hogsmeade," said Ron, sitting back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" said Hermione keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain–"

"Yeah, I think it is," said Ron in an offhand sort of way, "but that's not why want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" said Hermione.

"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, "where they've got _everything…._ Pepper Imps–they make you smoke at the mouth–and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next–"

"But Hogsmeade a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on earnestly. "In _Sites of Historical Sorcery_ it says the inn was headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain–"

"–and massive sherbert balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked around at Harry and Lucy.

"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"

"It probably will," said Lucy sadly.

"You'll have to tell us when you've found out," said Harry heavily.

"What d'you mean?" said Ron.

"We can't go. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't sign our permission forms."

"And Fudge wouldn't either."

Ron looked horrified.

"_You're both not allowed to come?_ But–no way–McGonagall or someone will give you guys permission–"

Harry and Lucy both gave hollow laughs. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, was very strict.

"–or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle–"

"Ron!" said Hermione sharply. "I don't think Harry and Lucy should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose–"

"Yeah, we expect that's what McGonagall will say when we ask for permission," said Harry bitterly.

"But if _we're_ with them," said Ron spiritedly to Hermione, "Black wouldn't dare–"

"Oh, Ron, don't talk rubbish," snapped Hermione. "Black's already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. Do you really think he's going to worry about attacking Harry and Lucy just because _we're_ there?"

She was fumbling with the straps of Crookshanks's basket as she spoke.

"Don't let that thing out!" Ron said, but too late; Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees, the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away.

"Get out of here!"

"Ron, don't!" said Hermione angrily.

Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred. They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backward and forward past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned toward Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket.

At one o'clock, the plump witch with the food court arrived at the compartment door.

"D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asked awkwardly, nodding toward Professor Lupin. "He looks like he could do with some food."

Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously.

"Er–Professor?" she said. "Excuse me–Professor?"

He didn't move.

"Don't worry, dear," said the witch as she handed Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

"I suppose he is asleep?" said Ron quietly as the witch slid the compartment door closed. "I mean–he hasn't died, has he?"

"No, no, take a look, he's still breathing," whispered Lucy, taking the Cauldron Cake Harry had passed her.

He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin's presence in their compartment had its uses. Midafternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people (or in Lucy's case, least two favorite people) appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Draco Malfoy, Harry, and–by technicality–Lucy had been enemies ever since they had met on their very first train journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin House; he played one of the Seeker positions on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry and Lucy played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscly; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla-ish arms.

As soon as she saw him, Lucy's face flushed pink and she immediately looked down at her lap, avoiding both his face and Hermione's ever-so-slight smirk as she clenched up her left fist and placed her right hand over its wrist so she wouldn't have to look at the ring and bracelet from her secret admirer.

Ever since she had met Draco Malfoy, Lucy had had an enormous crush upon him. She had told no one about it, but that didn't mean no one knew. Hermione had figured it out for herself at the end of last year, and had her own theory that Malfoy might not only like Lucy, too, but could possibly be her secret admirer as well. Lucy didn't believe her. She felt that it would always be unrequited love between her and Malfoy.

"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "The Potty's and the Weasel."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," said Malfoy. "Did your mother die of shock?"

Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a snort.

"Who's that?" said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.

"New teacher," said Harry, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's pale eyes, narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.

"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle. He paused to sneer at them all, but when his eyes fell on Lucy, she so happened to glance up at him at that exact moment. She could have sworn she saw Malfoy's eyes light up from seeing her for a fraction of a second, but she blinked, and his eyes were once again filled with disgust and loathing before they disappeared.

Harry and Ron sat down again, Ron massaging his knuckles.

"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," he said angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head, and–"

Ron made a violent gesture in midair.

"Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be _careful…"_

But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.

"We must be nearly there," said Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.

The words had hardly left his mouth when the train started to slow down.

"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast…."

"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch.

"Then how come we're stopping?" said Lucy.

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Lucy, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

The suddenness of both events caused Lucy to lose her balance and fall backward onto the floor of the compartment.

"Ow!"

"Lucy! Are you okay?" said Harry.

"Yeah, I just fell…."

"What's going on?" said Ron's voice from behind Lucy.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!"

Lucy felt her way back to her seat as she crawled along the floor of the compartment.

"Do you think we might have broken down?"

"Dunno…" said Harry.

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry and Lucy saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard…."

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Lucy's legs.

"Sorry–d'you know what's going on? –Ouch–sorry–"

"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.

"Harry? Is that you?" What's happening?"

"No idea–sit down–"

There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice. Harry and Lucy felt her pass them, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's _that?"_

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What're you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron–"

"Come in and sit down–"

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. _"I'm _here!"

"Ouch!" said Neville as the compartment door slid open for a third time.

"Crabbe? Goyle?" said Malfoy, sliding the door shut behind him as he entered. "Are you guys in here?"

"No, _we're_ in here, Malfoy!" Ron snapped. "Go look for your pathetic lackeys elsewhere!"

"Gladly! Bye, Weasel–ouch! –what was that?"

"M-my leg!" Lucy squeaked, glad that it was dark so no one could see how red she now was. "N-now get off m-me!"

"Sorry–ow! –who did that?"

"_I _did, Malfoy! What did you do to my sister?"

"Nothing, Potter! I just tripped!"

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry and Lucy could hear movements in his corner. None of them spoke.

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry and Lucy's eyes both darted downward, and what they saw made their stomach's contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water….

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry and Lucy's gazes, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Lucy felt her own breath catch in her chest. The cold went deeper than her skin. It was inside her chest, it was inside her very heart….

Lucy's eyes rolled up into her head. She couldn't see. She was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in her ears as though of water. She was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder.

And then, from far away, she heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. She wanted to help whoever it was, she tried to move her arms, but couldn't… a thick white fog was swirling around her, inside her–

"Harry! Lucy! Are both of you all right?"

Someone was slapping her face.

"H-huh?"

Lucy opened her eyes; there were lanterns above her, and the floor was shaking–the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. Harry seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Ron was kneeling next to him, and Neville and Professor Lupin were standing above him, watching. Hermione was right in front of her, but where she was at was a complete mystery. Unlike her brother, Lucy could tell she was still sitting up in her seat, but that she was leaning slightly upon something. Something rigidly solid, but warm and comfortable. Then whatever it was moved slightly. She shifted her head to see what it was she was leaning up against, only to feel herself go bright, bright red. The rigidly solid, but warm and comfortable something she had been leaning up against was none other than Draco Malfoy's shoulder, who seemed to be frozen in place as he stared at her with an unmistakable blush on his face.

Lucy swallowed a gasp as she pushed away from Malfoy, only to suddenly become dizzy and tip slightly out of her seat, quickly caught by Hermione. Lucy felt very sick; when she put her hand to her forehead to feel how hot her face was, she felt cold sweat on her face.

Hermione helped her back onto her seat, while Ron heaved up Harry.

"Are you guys okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that–that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still.

Lucy looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at her, both very pale.

"But, I heard it, too," she said timidly. "There was a woman–"

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to the twins, handing both of them particularly large pieces. "Eat them. They'll help."

Harry and Lucy both took the chocolates but didn't eat them.

"Sir, what exactly was that thing?" said Lucy.

"A dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

"Eat," he repeated. "They'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…"

He strolled past Harry and Lucy and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you guys sure you're okay, Harry, Lucy?" said Hermione, watching Harry and Lucy anxiously.

"Y-yeah, we'll be okay," stuttered Lucy, keeping her eyes solely on her in order to fight the urge to look at Malfoy.

"I don't get it…. What happened?" said Harry, wiping more sweat off his face.

"Well–that thing–the dementor–stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) –and you two–you two–"

"I thought you were both having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You both went sort of rigid and started twitching before falling out of your seats–or rather," Ron suddenly gave Lucy a cheeky grin, "Lucy would have fallen out of her seat, too, had it not have been for _him."_

As he jerked his head over to the still silent platinum blonde, a mixture of reactions filled the compartment. Ron was smug. Neville was embarrassed. Ginny couldn't stop giggling. Hermione was smirking. Harry was puzzled. And Lucy was flushed pink as she slowly turned to face Malfoy.

"Wh-what is R-Ron talking about?" she asked timidly. Malfoy became twice as red, but he didn't reply. He simply got up, and walked out of the compartment, slamming the door shut behind him before stomping flat-footed down the corridor. As soon as he was gone, Ron burst out laughing.

"Merlin's beard! I'm never going to let Malfoy live that down! He's going to regret having opened his big mouth if he breathes a word about either of you fainting, Lucy!"

"Wh-what do you m-mean?" Lucy squealed, her cheeks now as red as a cherry. "What h-happened when I-I passed out?"

"Well, you know Malfoy wasn't sitting down yet when the dementor came in, right?" Hermione asked. Lucy slowly nodded. "Well, when you passed out, Malfoy caught you before you completely fell out of your seat and then sat you down next to him."

"Problem was, Malfoy couldn't keep you in your seat without you practically falling out again," said Ron, wiping a tear away from his eye. "So he had no choice but to let you lean against him to keep you on the seat!"

Lucy felt herself growing lightheaded as she processed this information.

"Anyway," said Hermione, continuing on. "Professor Lupin stepped over you, Harry, and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand, and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…."

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again…."

Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Harry and Lucy both felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting around her.

"But didn't any of you–fall off your seats?" said Harry awkwardly.

"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry and Lucy again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though…."

Harry and Lucy looked at each other. They didn't understand. They were both feeling weak and shivery, as though they were recovering from a bad bout of the flu; they also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had they gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…."

Harry and Lucy took bites and to their great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of their fingers and toes.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin. "Are both of you alright, Harry, Lucy?"

Harry and Lucy didn't ask how Professor Lupin knew their names.

"Fine," they both muttered, embarrassed.

They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

"All right', you four?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, the twins could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when they climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Harry and Lucy felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at them sideways, as though frightened they might collapse again.

As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged roars, Harry and Lucy saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. Waves of cold sickness threatened to engulf them both again; they leaned back into the lumpy seats and closed their eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window; watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out.

As Harry and Lucy stepped down, a high-pitched, delighted voice sounded in their ears.

"You both _fainted,_ Potter's? Is Longbottom telling the truth? Both of you actually fainted?"

Pansy Parkinson, a fellow Slytherin of Malfoy's, elbowed past Hermione to block Harry and Lucy's way up to the stone steps to the castle, her pug-like face gleeful and eyes glinting maliciously.

"Shove off, Parkinson," Hermione snipped.

"Did you faint as well, Mudblood?" said Pansy loudly. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you, too?"

At that moment, Malfoy, who was stepping out of his own carriage with Crabbe and Goyle, caught sight of what was going on, and tried to make a beeline for the crowd swarming towards the great oak doors into the castle, but Ron caught sight of him before he could.

"You know, Pansy, I find it interesting you found out about it from _Neville _and not _Malfoy,_ considering that he was there," said Ron smugly. It was only when Pansy whipped around to gawk at Malfoy did Lucy allow her blood to rush to her cheeks, praying that Ron wasn't going to do what she thought he was.

"Draco!" Pansy squealed. "You were _there?_ Why didn't you tell us?"

Even Crabbe and Goyle turned to him in surprise. Malfoy said nothing, but his cheeks burned brightly.

"What?" said Ron, gloating in Malfoy's embarrassment. "Too ashamed to admit what happened, Malfoy?"

"Shut it, Weasel!" Malfoy snapped.

"Ah, I see, now. You're embarrassed that Lucy fainted on top of you, huh?"

Lucy just wanted to disappear, and by the looks of it, so did Malfoy.

Pansy did not speak for several moments. She just stared blankly at Malfoy, who, with flushed cheeks, glared angrily down at his feet. Then she abruptly spun around to glare evilly at Lucy, who automatically stepped back.

"You are a wretched, insolent little–"

"Is there a problem?" said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage.

Pansy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and read stamped lettering on his dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in her voice, she said, "Oh, no–er–_Professor,"_ then she threw one last dirty look at Lucy over her shoulder before leading the way up the stone steps into the castle, Crabbe and Goyle following her. Malfoy paused to stare back at them, his face redder than ever, and then ran after them.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the four of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry and Lucy followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter's! Granger! I want to see the three of you!"

Harry, Lucy, and Hermione turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Harry and Lucy fought their way over to her with feelings of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making them feel they must have done something wrong.

"There's no need to look so worried–I just want a word in my office," she told them. "Move along there, Weasley."

Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Harry, Lucy, and Hermione away from the chattering crowd; they accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor.

Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Harry, Lucy, and Hermione to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you had both taken ill on the train, Potter's."

Before Harry or Lupin could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in.

Harry and Lucy both felt themselves going red. It was bad enough that they'd passed out, or whatever they had done, without everyone making all this fuss.

"Lucy and I are fine," Harry said. "We don't need anything–"

"Oh, it's you two, is it?" said Madam Pomfrey, ignoring this and bending down to stare closely at both of them. "I suppose the two of you have been doing something dangerous again?"

"H-hey now!" Lucy stuttered, "it really wasn't even our f-fault this time!"

"It was a dementor, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall.

They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

"Setting dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing back Harry's hair and feeling his forehead before doing the same to Lucy. "They won't be the last ones to collapse. Yes, both of them are all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate–"

"We're not delicate!" said Harry crossly.

"Of course you're not," said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking their pulses'.

"What do they need?" said Professor McGonagall crisply. "Bed rest? Should they perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

"R-really, we're _fine!"_ said Lucy quickly, jumping up. The thought of what Draco Malfoy would think and what Pansy Parkinson would say if she had to go to the hospital wing was torture.

"Well, both of them should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry and Lucy's eyes.

"We've already had some," said Harry. "Professor Lupin gave us some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies."

"Are both of you sure you feel all right?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.

"_Yes,"_ they both said.

"Very well. Mr. Potter, kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with your sister and Miss Granger about their course schedules, then we can go down to the feast together."

Harry went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself. As soon as she was gone, Professor McGonagall turned to Lucy and Hermione.

"As I understand it, both of you have signed up for more elective classes than recommended, correct?" she asked. Lucy and Hermione both nodded. "Well, the number of classes you have both signed up for have created conflicts in both of your schedules. Now, normally I would tell both of you to decide which classes you would have to drop, but…"

She opened a drawer in her desk and took out what looked like two tiny, sparkling hourglasses upon thin gold chains.

"Miss Granger, Miss Potter, these are what are known as Time-Turner's. They are not only rare, but can also be considered extremely dangerous if used for selfish reasons. They also their users to go back in time."

Lucy and Hermione's eyes grew wide.

"I had to write to the Ministry of Magic so both of you could have them. I told them that both of you are model students, and that neither of you, under any circumstances, will use them for anything other than your studies, and will tell absolutely no one about them."

"Professor," Lucy piped. "Don't think I'm not grateful for this, because I am, but why exactly am I getting one, too? My grades aren't nearly as good as Hermione's."

"Miss Potter, despite all of you and your brother's… _adventures,_ shall we say, you still maintain very good grades. But let me warn you now, if you use this for any of those sort of _excursions,_ this privilege I'm granting you will be immediately taken away."

"Yes, ma'am," said Lucy.

She and Hermione each took a Time-Turner.

"Be warned," said Professor McGonagall in very serious voice. "No matter what happens, you mustn't let yourselves be seen by those around you in the past when you go back in time. If others were to see either of you in the exact place as you're past self at any given point, they'll most likely assume they've gone mad. There have been many cases in history when a witch or wizard will believe they have gone mad, or believe they are witnessing some sort of Dark Magic going on, when they that. Awful, and I repeat, _awful _things happen to witches or wizard who meddle with time in that way. Do you both understand?"

Lucy and Hermione both nodded.

"They let's be off. We're missing the feast."

Lucy and Hermione slipped the Time-Turner's over their heads, hid them under their robes, and followed McGonagall out of her office. Harry was still out in the corridor waiting for them, and the four of them made their way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall.

It was a sea of pointed black hats; each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair, was carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall.

"Oh," said Hermione softly, "we've missed the Sorting!"

New students at Hogwarts were sorted into Houses by trying on the Sorting Hat, which shouted out the House they were best suited to (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin). Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry, Lucy, and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry and Lucy. Had the story of them collapsing in front of the dementor traveled that fast?

They and Hermione sat down on either side of Ron, who had saved them seats.

"What was all that about?" he muttered to Harry and Lucy.

Lucy bit her lip. How was she supposed to explain all about the Time-Turner, when she wasn't allowed to talk about it to anyone other than Hermione? She couldn't even tell Harry, her own twin brother. So how could she tell Ron?

To her great relief and joy, Harry started to explain in a whisper about McGonagall calling Madam Pomfrey, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off.

Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose. He was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, but that wasn't why Harry and Lucy respected him. They couldn't help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as Harry and Lucy watched him beaming around at the students, they both felt really calm for the first time since the dementor had entered the train compartment.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused, and Harry and Lucy remembered what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the dementors guarding the school.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are to be fooled by tricks or disguises–or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry and Lucy glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he said.

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Harry and Lucy, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry and Lucy among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed to Harry and Lucy.

Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry and Lucy, who hated Snape, were startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It was beyond anger: it was loathing. Harry and Lucy knew that expression only too well; it was the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on Harry, and ninety percent of the time when he looked at Lucy.

Lucy was the only person who had ever noticed, but sometimes when Snape looked at her, Snape's eyes would fill with anger and sorrow, unlike when he looked at Harry. When he looked at Harry, a look of complete hatred would fill his face and was absolutely unmistakable. Lucy didn't understand what it was about her that always seemed to upset him, but then again, she wasn't even sure if those looks he sometimes had were even real. For one thing, no one else except her had ever seemed to notice this, and for the other, every time he would look at her like that, he would almost immediately look at her with the same look of malice he gave Harry all the time before she could even blink. For these reasons, Lucy never told anyone about Snape's strange behavior. She just kept it to herself and pondered about it quietly.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Harry and Lucy both leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.

"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Lucy, suddenly ravenous, helped herself to everything she could reach and began to eat.

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talking, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed. It had been Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione who had cleared Hagrid's name last year.

At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the teachers' table.

"All down ter you four," said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up at them. "Can' believe it… great man, Dumbledore… came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough…. It's what I always wanted…."

Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away.

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower. A large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them, "Password?"

"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"

"Oh no," said Neville Longbottom sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Lucy climbed the spiral stair with no thought in her head except how glad she was to be back. They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its four four-poster beds, and Lucy, looking around, felt she was home at last.


	6. Talons and Tea Leaves

**Okay, I know you must all be ticked off that I haven't updated this for two months, but there are two very important reasons why I'm so late with this.  
**

**1. When I wrote in the author's note last chapter that I'd give a sneak peak at an upcoming Lucy and Draco moment to the first three reviewers that review. Problem was, I don't know what possessed me to write that when I didn't actually have anything planned in the chapter after this. I had to wrap my brain around how to come up fulfill that promise by taking an extended break from actually writing to think up something. While I was thinking up that, I took the time to work on my delayed screenplay. Once I had started, it was almost impossible for me to stop when I realized that the year-long anniversary of when I first started writing it is just around the corner, even when I did finally come up with an idea.  
**

**2. I had also stated that I would give the idea to the first three reviewers. I got seven reviewers, but five of those reviewers were anonymous. Even after I finished copying this on the computer, I just kept waiting around for hopefully another reviewer with a legit penname to review so i could send them the little snippet of chapter seven. Unfortunately, I can't keep waiting around for that reviewer to show up, because it's not fair to keep the rest of you waiting.  
**

**So here's the two winners: magclot23 and happyllamasarcasm.**

**I'll be PMing both of you with the little tidbit as soon as I publish this chapter.  
**

**As always, please be sure to read and review!**

* * *

**Chapter Six:****Talons and Tea Leaves:**

When Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. Draco Malfoy sat at the very end of the table, not joining in with the other Slytherins, or rather none of the other Slytherins were including him. All of the Slytherins were acting as though Malfoy's seat was empty, and didn't even acknowledge him with a simple good-morning. As they passed, Pansy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter. Malfoy didn't laugh, though. His eyes automatically locked with Lucy's, and they stared at each other before both of them almost immediately looked away with bright pink cheeks.

"Ignore her," whispered Hermione, who was right behind Lucy. "Just ignore her, it's not worth it… focus on Malfoy instead…."

Lucy didn't even get a chance to turn to her and start stuttering out denials about who she had been staring at at the Slytherin table, because right then, Pansy shrieked, "Hey, Potter's! Potter's! The dementors are coming, Potter's! _Woooooooo!"_

Harry and Lucy dropped into seats at the Gryffindor table, near George Weasley.

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing them over. "What's up with you guys, Harry, Lucy?"

"The Slytherins," said Ron, sitting down next to George and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

George looked up in time to see Pansy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little brat," he said calmly. "She wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't she, Fred?"

"Nearly wet herself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Pansy.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those dementors…."

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice.

"Or make a complete fool out of yourself?" Lucy mumbled quietly.

"Forget it, Harry, Lucy," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking…. They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there. As for everything that happened with Malfoy… think of it this way: you'll always have a retort ready whenever he decides to open his big mouth at you guys."

"And we'll see to it Malfoy keeps his mouth shut after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

The only time the twins and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. Both of them feeling slightly more cheerful, Harry and Lucy helped themselves to sausages and fried eggs.

Hermione was examining her new schedule.

"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.

"Really?" said Lucy, taking out her own schedule to compare and consult with her best friend. "Which one's?"

"Well, you and I have Divination and Care of Magical Creatures with Harry and Ron, and we'll both be in Arithmancy later on today. And speaking of Arithmancy," she peeked over at Harry and Ron. They were both enjoying breakfast and not paying attention to them. She turned back to Lucy and said quietly, "we'll have to make _time_ to go back to Gryffindor Tower to get our Arithmancy books after Divination."

Lucy caught on to what she was saying and looked down at her schedule. Divination and Arithmancy were both listed at the same time. They would be using their Time-Turners for the first time today.

"Right," Lucy said, reaching into her bag and taking out a quill and a bottle of ink. "I think we better make stars by classes like that when we need to–er–_make time_ to go to our dormitory for books."

"That's probably a good idea," Hermione said, reaching into her own bag for her quill. As they scribbled marks on their schedules to know when to use the Time-Turners, Ron happened to look over to see what they were doing.

"Lucy, Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over their shoulders, "they've messed up both your schedules. Look–they've got you both down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough _time."_

"D-don't worry," said Lucy quickly, "Hermione and I will manage. We talked it over Professor McGonagall."

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning. Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath in your schedule, Hermione, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And" –Ron leaned closer to their schedules, disbelieving– _"look_–underneath both your schedules, Arithmancy, _nine o'clock._ I mean, I know you're both good, Hermione, Lucy, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once, Hermione? And Lucy, how're you supposed to be in two?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course Lucy and I won't be in three classes at once. Much less two."

"Well, then–"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But–"

"Does it even really matter to you if our schedules are a bit full?" Lucy abruptly snapped, not knowing what else to do. "Like I said, Hermione and I have talked it over with Professor McGonagall. So everything will be just fine."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pausing on the way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting' everythin' ready…. Hope it's okay…. Me, a teacher… hones'ly…."

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.

"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" said Ron, a note of anxiety in his voice.

The hall was starting to empty as people headed off toward their first lesson. Ron checked his course schedule.

"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there…."

They finished their breakfast hastily, said good-bye to Fred and George, and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Pansy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Harry and Lucy into the entrance hall.

The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.

"There's–got–to–be–a–shortcut," Ron panted as they climbed their seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.

"I think it's this way," said Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right.

"Can't be," said Ron. "That's south, look, you can see a bit of the lake out of the window…"

Harry and Lucy were watching the painting. A fat, dapple-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. Harry and Lucy were used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit one another, but they always enjoyed watching it. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armor clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione. "What Villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands? Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass.

"Are you all right?" said Harry, moving closer to the picture.

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"

The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.

"Er–sorry to bother you," said Lucy meekly, "but we're looking for the North Tower. Do you happen to know the way there?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted. "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else perish bravely in the charge!"

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"

And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.

They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow staircase.

Puffing loudly, Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom.

"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and Lucy and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

"'Sybil Trelawney, Divination teacher,'" Lucy read.

"How're we supposed to get up there?" said Harry.

As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry's feet. Everyone got quiet.

"After you," said Ron, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first, with Lucy following close behind.

They emerged into the strangest-looking classroom they had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned teashop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stifling warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

Ron appeared at their shoulders as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers.

"Where is she?" Ron said.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Lucy's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank into poufs. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around the same round table.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that id you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field…."

At these words, Harry, Lucy, and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs, and smells and sudden disappearing's, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tealeaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball–if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, class will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading–it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender trembled.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future._ I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear" –she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up– "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind… thank you…."

When Harry and Lucy had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

"Okay," said Lucy as they both opened their books at pages five and six. "What do you see in mine?"

"A load of soggy brown stuff," said Harry. The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making him feel sleepy and stupid. Lucy on the other hand, was wide-awake and alert, and gave her brother a small scowl.

"Can you at least try to focus? You may be hating Divination already, but I'm rather eager to learn!"

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried into the gloom.

"You see? We need to _try,"_ she emphasized.

Harry shrugged and tried to pull himself together.

"Right, you've got a pepper pot here…." He consulted _Unfogging the Future._ "That means you're going to have 'a troublesome secret'–sorry about that–but there's a thing that could be person's profile… hang on… that means 'new friend'… so you're going to have a troublesome secret with a new friend…. And there's also something that looks like an animal… can't quite tell what kind, though…."

"My turn, then," Lucy peered into Harry's teacup as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction. "Let's see… there's a shape here that looks a bit like a bowler hat… that I think means 'change'…."

She turned the teacup the other way.

"But when I look at it this way, it resembles morn of an acorn… that means 'success'…. What's that?" She scanned her copy of _Unfogging the Future._

"'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Wow, that will be nice… and there's another thing here," she turned the cup again, "it looks a bit like an animal… maybe a cat…? Wait, no, a sheep?"

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter.

"Let me see that, my dear," she said curiously to Lucy, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from her. Everyone went quiet to watch.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon… my dear, you and your sister both have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows _that,"_ said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her.

"Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry, Lucy, and You-Know-Who."

Harry, Lucy, and Ron stared at her in amazement. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…."

"Oh… I guess it wasn't a bowler hat or an acorn," said Lucy sheepishly.

"The skull… danger in your path, my dear…."

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and nearly smashed it as she abruptly slammed the cup back down on the table and snatched Lucy's cup away from Harry. She peered wildly inside, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear children… my poor, dear children… no… it is kinder not to say… no… don't ask me…."

"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Lucy's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at their cups.

"My dears," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you both have the Grim."

"The what?" said Harry and Lucy.

They both could tell that they weren't the only one's who didn't understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at them and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"The Grim, my dears, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that the twins hadn't understood. "The giant spectral dog that haunts church yards! My dear children, it is an omen–the worst omen–of _death!"_

Harry and Lucy's stomachs lurched. That dog on the cover of _Death Omens_ that was stashed away in Lucy's trunk–the dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent… Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Harry and Lucy; everyone except Hermione who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

"_I_ don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side.

"It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether we're going to die or not!" said Harry, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him or Lucy.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes… please pack away your things…."

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Harry and Lucy's eyes.

"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear" –she pointed at Neville–"you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence. When they were halfway down, Hermione let out a gasp.

"Oh, I left my textbook back in the classroom! Lucy, do you think I'll have _time to go back_ to get it?"

Lucy caught on to Hermione's subtle hint about the Time-Turner's.

"Yeah, I'll go with you," she said.

"But what about Transfiguration?" said Ron. "You'll both be late."

"Don't worry, we'll be right behind you," said Hermione. "C'mon, Lucy."

Leaving the boys, they went back up the winding staircase, passing their classmates on the way. By the time they had reached the hatch that led back up to Professor Trelawney's classroom, everyone else had left. It was the perfect place to use the Time-Turner's.

Hermione pulled hers out from beneath the neck of her robes. "You ready?"

Lucy nodded, too depressed and scared of Professor Trelawney's prediction of the Grim to be as excited about her first leap back in time as she could have been.

Hermione threw the chain over Lucy's neck, too. Then she turned the Time-Turner over twice.

The deserted North Tower dissolved at once. Lucy had the sensation that she was flying very fast, backward. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past her, her ears were pounding, she tried yelling, but couldn't seem to find her voice–

And then she felt solid ground beneath her feet, and everything came into focus again–

She was standing next to Hermione in the entrance hall. In front of them were the doors to the Great hall, where they could hear the clatter of knives and forks and the talking of other students at breakfast.

"Breakfast time," Hermione said. "C'mon, we need to get out of here before we're seen."

With a lifeless nod, Lucy followed her to their first Arithmancy lesson.

* * *

Lucy left Arithmancy two hours later, feeling more depressed than ever. Not only was the Grim still weighing on her mind, but she also had just wasted the two most boring, and hardest hours she had ever spent in a classroom. Her and Hermione's teacher, Professor Septima Vector, spent nearly the entire class period explaining how Arithmancy was the study of predicting the future, but unlike Divination, it used the calculation of numbers. Even when she attended Muggle schools, Lucy had always struggled with math. When Professor Vector had given them a series of numbers to practice with, Lucy had stared at hers for the remainder of class, trying to figure out how to begin. Her dread for their homework they had been assigned was not shared by Hermione, who was eager to start it right then and there.

"Wasn't that lesson simply fascinating, Lucy? I can't wait for our next lesson!"

"Let's get going," said Lucy glumly. "We'll be late joining Harry and Ron in Transfiguration."

"Oh, you go on ahead, Lucy. I have to use my Time-Turner again to attend Muggle Studies."

"Oh, alright then. I'll wait for you outside the classroom then."

With a heavy heart, Lucy set off alone for Transfiguration, while Hermione left in search of an empty corridor to use the Time-Turner.

Though depressed at the thought of facing everyone who had been in Divination, Lucy kept her word and waited for Hermione outside of Transfiguration. She didn't have to wait long. Within a few minutes of waiting, Hermione came strolling down the corridor.

"How interesting that was," she stated, "being Muggle-born and studying them from the Wizarding point of view. Well, let's go in."

Lucy searched for Harry in the classroom at once. He had selected a seat right at the back of the room. She quickly went to join him. Although she had had two hours to mull over the fact that they had seen a death omen, and she was still scared about learning about it, Harry had learned this fact little less than fifteen minutes ago.

"Hey," Harry said bleakly as she sat down next to him. "Did you guys find Hermione's textbook?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

Harry and Lucy both felt as though they were sitting in very bright spotlights; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at them, as though they were about to drop dead at any moment. They hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi (witches and wizards who could transform at will into animals), and weren't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

"Really what has gotten into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint _pop,_ and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Harry and Lucy again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class and we were reading the tea leaves, and–"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say anymore, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Us," said Harry and Lucy together, finally.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry and Lucy with her beady eyes, "Then both of you should know, Potter's, that Sybil Trelawney has predicted the death of one or two students a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues–"

Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, much more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney–"

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You two both look in excellent health to me, Potter's, so you will both excuse me if I don't let either of you off homework today. I assure you both that if either of you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tealeaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. But Lucy was still scared. Although Professor McGonagall's words brought some level of reassurance, she couldn't help but remember the reason why she had bought _What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming._ Because that dog, whether it really was the Grim or not, had given her a frightening chill that went down to her very bones. She wasn't the only one not convinced. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.

"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You've heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start.

"Harry, Lucy," he said, in a low, serious voice, "you guys _haven't_ seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Well actually, we have," said Lucy.

"We saw one the night we left the Dursleys'," Harry explained.

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"Probably a stray," said Hermione calmly.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.

"Hermione, if Harry and Lucy've seen a Grim, that's–that's bad," he said. "My–my Uncle Bilious saw one and–and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards."

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry and Lucy are still with us because they're not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and was about to prop it open against the juice jug, when a hesitant voice piped, "You're wrong there, Hermione."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at Lucy, who was staring at her untouched plate of food. With a deep breath, Lucy looked up at Hermione and continued.

"Of course, I'm only speaking for myself and not Harry, but if there's one thing I'm sure of when I saw that dog, it's that I was absolutely _terrified,_ and I didn't even know it was possibly a death omen at that time. In fact, I think that if the Knight Bus hadn't appeared when it did, that dog, stray or the Grim, would have most likely attacked us!"

"There! You see, Hermione?" said Ron. "She got chills! No ordinary dog can scare someone like that even without knowing it could have possibly been the Grim!"

"Yes, it is possible," said Hermione, turning back to her book. "You're forgetting that Lucy so happens to be scared of dogs."

Lucy shot a glare at her best friend. "You didn't see its eyes, Hermione! If you'd seen that dogs' eyes, you wouldn't be so skeptical."

"Eyes?" said Harry. "What're you talking about, Luce?"

"Don't you remember, Harry?" she said. "I got a good look at its eyes that night. Most dogs, feral or not, never really stare completely at someone. They mainly stare through them. But that dog… it didn't do that… it really seemed to stare _at _us…"

"Call it what you will, but I think Divination seems very woolly," Hermione said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in our cups!" said Lucy hotly.

"You didn't seem quite so confident when and Harry were debating of whether or not they were cats or sheep," said Hermione coolly.

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

She had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with our Arithmancy class!"

"Arithmancy?" Lucy snapped. "That's the class that ought to be considered rubbish! The only reason I even took it was so I could be in more classes with you, my best friend!"

Both girls turned their backs to one another and folded their arms.

Ron frowned at them.

"What're they talking about?" he whispered to Harry. "Neither of them have been to an Arithmancy class yet."

* * *

Harry and Lucy were pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Lucy and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Harry and Ron walked beside them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when they spotted four only-too-familiar backs ahead of them that they realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Pansy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Harry and Lucy were quite sure they knew what they were talking about.

Like at breakfast, Malfoy was off by himself, being ignored by his fellow Slytherins. As soon as they saw each other, Malfoy and Lucy both flushed pink and immediately looked elsewhere. The embarrassment from everything that happened on the train was still fresh in their minds.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

For one nasty moment, Harry and Lucy thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; Harry and Lucy had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last them a lifetime. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it–make sure yeh can see–now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books–"

"How?" said the high-pitched, sneering voice of Pansy Parkinson.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Pansy repeated. She took out her copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters,_ which she had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Harry and Lucy, had belted their books shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn'–hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

The class all shook their heads.

"Yeh've got ter _stroke_ 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look–"

He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Pansy sneered. "We should have _stroked_ them! Why didn't we guess?"

"I–I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Pansy. "Really witty, giving us books that try to rip our hands off!"

"Shut up, Pansy," said Lucy quietly. Hagrid was looking downcast and Lucy wanted Hagrid's first lesson to be a success.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so–so yeh've got yer books an'–an–now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get'em. Hang on…"

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly, speaking up for the first time. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him–"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"Careful, Potter, there's a dementor behind you–"

"Better stick close to Lucy, then, Malfoy," Ron retorted, "we all know what a gentleman you are."

The Gryffindors laughed as Malfoy's cheeks flamed red. The Slytherins scowled, but nobody came to Malfoy's aide.

"Well, at least I–"

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Harry and Lucy had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hand of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached toward them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Harry and Lucy could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once they got over the first shock of seeing something that was half-horse, half-bird, they started to appreciate the hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer–"

No one seemed to want to. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione, however, approached the fence cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy weren't listening; Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle were talking in an undertone and Lucy had a nasty feeling they were telling Malfoy their plot on how best to disrupt the lesson.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, they get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt.

"Right–who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione had misgivings. The hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

"I'll do it," said Harry.

"Me too," said Lucy.

There was an intake of breath from behind them, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered, "Oooh, no, Harry, Lucy, remember your tea leaves!"

Harry ignored them. He climbed over the paddock fence. Lucy hesitated when she heard them, but climbed in after her brother.

"Good, Harry, Lucy!" roared Hagrid. "Right then–let's see how both of yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. Lucy nervously glanced back over her shoulder. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy seemed to be very tense as he bit his lip, and Pansy's eyes were narrowed maliciously.

"Easy, now, Harry, Lucy," said Hagrid quietly. "Both of yeh've got eye contact now try not ter blink…. Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…."

Harry's eyes immediately began to water, but he didn't shut them, and Lucy felt herself shaking as she fought against the urge to blink. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry and Lucy with one fierce orange eye.

"Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Harry, Lucy… now', bow…"

They didn't feel much like exposing the backs of their necks to Buckbeak, but they did as they were told. Harry and Lucy each gave a short bow and looked up.

The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at them. It didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right–back away, now, Harry, Lucy, easy does it–"

But then, to Harry and Lucy's enormous surprise, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front legs and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, both of yeh!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right–both of yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Harry and Lucy both moved slowly toward the hippogriff and reached out toward it. They patted the beak several times and the hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

The class broke into applause, all except for Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking extremely disappointed. Malfoy, however, had his arms crossed, but Lucy thought, for a fleeting moment, she saw him smile.

Righ' then, Harry, Lucy," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let both of yeh ride him!"

This was more than Harry and Lucy had bargained for. They were used to a broomstick; but they weren't sure a hippogriff would be quite the same.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind neither of yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that…."

Harry put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted onto its back. Then, he offered Lucy his hand, and helped her to climb on behind him. Buckbeak stood up. Lucy immediately wrapped her arms around Harry's waist, but Harry wasn't sure where to hold on; everything in front of him was covered with feathers.

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the hippogriff's hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry and Lucy; Harry just had time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before they were soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Harry and Lucy both knew which one they preferred; the hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of both of them, catching them under their legs and making them feel they were about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers, slipped under Harry's fingers, and Lucy didn't dare change her grip around his waist; instead of the smooth action of their Nimbus Two Thousands, they now felt themselves rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.

Buckbeak flew them once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground. They just managed to hold on and push themselves straight again.

"Good work, Harry, Lucy!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by Harry and Lucy's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry and Lucy watched.

Malfoy, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Pansy and Malfoy, who were now patting his beak. Pansy looked disdainful.

"This is very easy," Pansy drawled, loud enough for Harry and Lucy to hear her. "I knew it must have been, if the Potter's could do it…. I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" she said to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Pansy let out a high-pitched scream as Malfoy pushed her aside and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to climb over Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes, to reach Pansy.

"He's dying!" Pansy yelled as the class panicked. "He's dying, look at him! It's killed him!"

"He's not dyin'!" Hagrid yelled, who had gone very white. "Someone help me–gotta get them outta here–"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Lucy saw that there was long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

"They should fire him straight him away!" said Pansy, who was in tears.

"It was your fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" said Pansy, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase. The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.

"D-d'you think he'll b-be all right?" said Lucy nervously, her eyes lingering after Hagrid as he carried him away.

"'Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," said Harry, they had both had far worse injuries mended magically by the nurse.

"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried. "Trust the Slytherins to mess things up for him…."

They were among the first to reach the Great hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there.

"They _wouldn't_ fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Ron, who wasn't eating either.

Harry and Lucy were watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle were huddled together, deep in conversation. They were sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily.

They went up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, but all four of them kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window.

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Lucy said suddenly.

Ron looked at his watch.

"If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early…."

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, and Harry and Lucy saw her glance at them.

"We're allowed to walk across the _grounds,"_ Harry said pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the dementors yet, has he?"

So they put their things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on their way to the front doors, as they weren't entirely sure they were supposed to be out.

The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When they reached Hagrid's hut, they knocked, and a voice growled, "C'min."

Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid's lap. One look told them that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them into focus.

"'Spect it's a record," he said thickly, when he recognized them. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted only a day before."

"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" gasped Hermione.

"Not yet," said Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. "But it's only a matter o' time, I'n't it, after Malfoy…"

"It's not bad, is it?" said Lucy, a little more urgency in her voice in her voice than she had intended, as they all sat down. "He'll be okay, right?"

"Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could," said Hagrid dully, "but he's sayin' it's still agony… covered in bandages… moanin'…"

"He's faking it," said Harry at once. "Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half of Lucy's bones last year. Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth."

"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," said Hagrid miserably. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left hippogriffs fer later… done flobberworms or summat…. Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson…. 'S all my fault…."

"It's all _Pansy's_ fault, Hagrid!" said Hermione earnestly.

"We're witnesses," said Harry. "You said hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Pansy's problem he got hurt because she wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened."

"Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up," said Ron.

Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabbed both Harry and Ron and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," said Hermione firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.

"Ar, maybe she's right," said Hagrid, letting go of Harry and Ron, who both staggered away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. They heard a loud splash.

"What's he done?" said Lucy nervously as Hermione came back in with the empty tankard.

"Stuck his head in the water barrel," said Hermione, putting the tankard away.

Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.

"That's better," he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching them all. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an' see me, I really–"

Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry and Lucy as though he'd only just realized they were there.

"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roared, so suddenly that they jumped a foot in the air. "YEH'RE BOTH NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND THE CASTLE AFTER DARK, HARRY, LUCY! AN' YOU TWO! LETTIN' 'EM!"

Hagrid strode over to Harry and Lucy, grabbed each of them by their arms, and pulled them to the door.

"C'mon!" Hagrid said angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter the school, an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!"


	7. The Boggart in the Wardrobe

**I know, I know... I'm horrible for making you all wait for this chapter, but understand that this past month has been hectic for me. As of yesterday, that's all over since I have now, officially, graduated high school. Man, what a day yesterday was... I woke up early, walked up on stage and got my official high school diploma from my principal, and threw my hat up in the air with the rest of the Class of 2013 in my navy blue robe! It was incredible! Speaking of graduation, I can't believe we'll never know how Hogwarts celebrates their 7th graduates... It's the only thing I dislike about the series.**

**Anyway, I'll be going on vacation with my family to the Outer Banks in North Carolina in two weeks, so that's both good news and bad news for all of you.**

**1. It's bad because I won't be completely focused on Lucy while there.**

**2. It's good because I'll be able to write out the rough plot line for the next chapter during the long, long car ride there and back, and at night when we'll be doing nothing in the beach house, I'll be able to type out chapter nine.**

**So, I can't give a real estimate for when the next chapter will be out.**

**As always, please read and review!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven:****The Boggart in the Wardrobe**

Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and the Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he were he heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry and Lucy saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.

Harry and Ron scowled at one another; Snape wouldn't have said "settle down" if they'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favored his own students above all others. Neither of them saw Lucy's lower lip tremble, or Hermione patting her arm reassuringly.

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, with Lucy and Hermione right in front of them, so that they were preparing ingredients on the same table.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm–"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.

Ron went brick red.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked across the table.

"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."

Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, and then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But, sir–!"

Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces.

"_Now,"_ said Snape in his most dangerous voice.

Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.

"And, sir, I'll need this Shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Mr. Potter, you can skin Malfoy's Shrivelfig," said Snape, giving Harry the look of loathing he always reserved just for him and Lucy.

Harry took Malfoy's Shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the Shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.

"None of your business," said Ron jerkily, without looking up.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury–"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.

"–he's complained to the school governors. _And_ to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this" –he gave a huge, fake sigh– "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"So that's what this about. You're trying to get Hagrid fired!"

Lucy, who had done nothing but listen silently till then, only realized that she had spoken when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy abruptly stopped working and stared at her. What surprised her even more was that she wasn't blushing, and that she hadn't stuttered. On the contrary, Lucy's eyes held tiny flames of rage, and her hands were balled up tightly into shaking fists.

Malfoy was silent for a moment and he stared at her. When he finally found his voice, there was an ever-so-slight blush on his face.

"Er–well," Malfoy spluttered, lowering his voice to a whisper, _"p-partly. _But there's–um–other benefits too. W-Weasley, slice my caterpillar f-for me…."

Lucy couldn't help but feel as though their roles had been reversed. He was the one stuttering and blushing, and she was the one acting cruel.

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned–

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," said Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right–"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," said Snape coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear.

"Help me!" he moaned to Hermione.

"Hey, Harry, Lucy," said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over to borrow Harry's brass scales, "have either of you heard? _Daily Prophet_ this morning–they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

"Where?" said the twins quickly. On the other side of the table, Malfoy and Pansy, who had walked over to borrow his knife, both looked up, listening closely.

"Not to far from here," said Seamus, who looked excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here…" Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry and Lucy. He turned around and saw Malfoy and Pansy watching closely. "What? Either of you got something to say?"

Malfoy bit his lip, and suddenly became very interested in reading the next step in his textbook for the potion, but Pansy's eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on the twins. She leaned across the table.

"Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter's?"

"Maybe we are!" Lucy snipped.

"Yeah, that's right," said Harry offhandedly.

Pansy's thin mouth was curving in a mean smile.

"Of course, if it were us," she said quietly, "Draco and I'd have done something before now. We wouldn't be staying in school like good kids, we'd be out there looking for him."

"What are you talking about, Parkinson?" said Ron roughly.

"Don't either of you _know,_ Potter's? Surely you _must_ know, Lucy?" breathed Pansy, her eyes narrowed.

"Know what?"

Malfoy kept his head down as Pansy let out a low, sneering laugh.

"Maybe you two would rather not risk your necks," she said. "Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if I were you, Lucy, I'd want revenge for what he did. I'd hunt him down myself."

"_Just what are you talking about?"_ said Lucy angrily, but at that moment Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's…."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn't see. Harry, Lucy, and Ron packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner.

"What did Pansy mean?" Harry muttered to Lucy and Ron as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the gargoyle's mouth. "Why would the two of us want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to us–yet."

"And what did she mean that I'd really want revenge?" Lucy said. "It was like what Mr. Weasley said back on platform nine-and-three quarters."

"She's making it up," said Ron savagely. "She's trying to make you guys do something stupid."

The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.

"Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Harry and Ron climbed the steps to the entrance hall, Hermione and Lucy lagging behind them. As soon as they were a safe distance away from the boys, Hermione and Lucy dashed back down the stairs and into the dark shadows of another passageway and pulled out their Time-Turner's. Their schedule was very complicated today. They would first have to use them now to get to Arithmancy, then set off normally to their first Ancient Runes lesson, then use their Time-Turner's again to come back to this moment after Potions to meet up with Harry and Ron for lunch before Defense Against the Dark Arts.

With nods to one another, they pulled their hourglass necklaces out from beneath their robes, and turned them over twice.

* * *

"Really, Lucy, I don't understand what it is you dislike so much about Arithmancy," Hermione stated as they made their way down the corridors to find the Ancient Runes classroom. "It is simply wonderful!"

"No, it is simply hard and confusing," Lucy moaned as she rubbed her temples to sooth the headache she had had for the past hour in class. "All those numbers that need to be calculated in certain orders and then decoded to make words… they make my head spin…."

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it… ah, here it is."

The two girls stepped into the classroom. The first thing they noticed was that there were hardly any students inside. Only a little more than five or six. The second was that those who were there were from all the Houses. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. And one of them so happened to be Draco Malfoy.

Lucy stiffened as she and Hermione took their seats. She hadn't meant to get so angry during Potions, but hearing him boast about an injury he had received only due to him defending Pansy and about how he was using it to get Hagrid in trouble, it just made her snap. But now that she had long since calmed down, her guilt was creeping out, and she couldn't even look at him.

At that moment, the teacher walked in. She introduced herself as Bathsheda Babbling, and immediately began her introduction about the class itself.

"Ancient Runes," she began, "is a subject that requires no wandwork. Instead of learning about new spells, you learn how to decipher, read, and write the ancient text of wizards dating back to as far as the early beginnings of magic.

"Please note," she continued, looking at them all seriously, "the coursework in this class can be quite overwhelming, and if you believe you are incapable of handling it, then please, leave now. I will not ask twice." She paused for a moment to see if anyone would get up and leave. No one did, so she went on.

"Another thing to know, is that I encourage friendship between the school House's, which is why, as you can all see, this class is combined with students from all four House's. Therefore, any disruptions that might occur to fighting over House rivalry shall not in any way be tolerated. Is that clear?"

Everyone was sure to nod, knowing that Professor Babbling was dead serious.

"Now, I want you all to open your copies of _Spellman's Syllabary _to page three, and work with your assigned partner–who I'll call out now–to decipher the practice sentences with your copies of _The Rune Dictionary."_

She began to read off names. Lucy and Hermione found themselves quickly separated once it became known that Hermione was to partner up with a Ravenclaw boy known as Terry Boot.

All too soon, it was Lucy's turn, but when she heard whom her partner was, her face drained of color.

"Malfoy, Draco, and Potter, Lucy."

Lucy sat there, her entire body numb as Professor Babbling read off the last partners. She was going to have to work with Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The boy she had a secret crush on, the boy who hated her, the boy she had fainted on top of on the Hogwarts Express, and who she had snapped at just that morning in Potions.

She struggled to breathe. The world was surely against her.

As soon as Professor Babbling had finished announcing the partners, everyone got up, and began crossing the room to sit with their assigned person.

"It'll be okay," said Hermione sympathetically as they both gathered their things. "Just make sure to keep your mind focused on your work and not him."

"R-right," said Lucy, her cheeks tinted pink as she turned around, and walked nervously over to Malfoy, who was waiting for her at his seat in the very back of the classroom.

Neither of them said anything for several moments once Lucy had sat down. They both simply stared, with flushed cheeks, at their unopened books. Finally, Malfoy broke the tense silence by awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Page three, right?" he nervously asked, flipping open his copy of _Spellman's Syllabary._

"Er–yeah," Lucy said quietly, her face beet red as she flipped open her book. Seeing the picturesque symbols written on the page, she took out a roll of parchment, her bottle of ink, and her eagle-feather quill, and copied it down before reaching for her copy of _The Rune Dictionary _to start deciphering.

"S-so, shall we start?"

"W-wait," said Malfoy, biting his lower lip. "I… I want to apologize…"

Lucy stared. "Apologize? For what?"

"For… for what Pansy said…" he continued. "I'm sorry about how she tried to antagonize you…"

Lucy blinked, completely shocked at the fact that Malfoy was actually apologizing, but then she realized something, and quickly scowled at him before peering down at the pages in the two books.

"Thank you, but it wouldn't have happened at all if–I think that first rune means 'eternal'–if you hadn't been boasting on about how you were having your father get Hagrid in trouble. And that reminds me, what was she talking about when she said I'd really want revenge on Black?"

Malfoy winced. "First off, forget what she said about Sirius Black. I'm not saying anything at all about that. Second, I'm sorry about everything that happened in Care of Magical Creatures, too. Believe it or not, I really didn't plan on getting that oaf–" catching the look in Lucy's eye, he quickly corrected himself. "–sorry, the _gamekeeper,_ into trouble, but I've been forced to. The next runes mean 'sleep,' and 'forest,' I think."

Lucy rolled her eyes as she scribbled down the words. "Please don't lie to me. We both know you did that because you thought it would be fun."

"The sentence reads, 'the forest's eternal sleep,' and you're wrong there. I did it because it was the only way for my ban to be lifted."

"Ban?" said Lucy, puzzled. "What ban?"

"Er–I guess you can think of a 'ban' as an unofficial Slytherin House tradition," said Malfoy uncertainly, trailing his finger on one of the lines in _Spellman's Syllabary _as he read. "If one House member thinks that another has done something that any other Slytherin would never do, he or she has the right to instill a ban on that student. I think that rune there means 'night.'"

"But what happens in a ban?" said Lucy curiously before decoding the rune for 'spirit.' "And why was one instilled upon you?"

Malfoy suddenly tensed. "Forget it. It doesn't matter," he said at once.

"But–"

"I said forget it, Potter!" he snapped. Lucy flinched, and then turned back to their work.

The rest of the lesson went by quick, the two of them only speaking when they wanted confirmation on a particular rune, and before Draco and Lucy knew it, class was over.

"I must say, you and Malfoy looked rather cozy back there," said Hermione playfully as they walked into an empty classroom to use their Time-Turners.

Lucy flushed. "I-it wasn't like that," she stuttered "W-we were just w-working…"

"It didn't seem like it," said Hermione, tucking her books under one arm to pull the hourglass out from the neck of her robes. "You two were really chatting animatedly when I last checked."

Needing to clear up the misunderstanding, Lucy explained as best as she could, everything Malfoy had told her, from denying to tell her anything about what Pansy was talking about pertaining to her and Harry about Sirius Black, and about the Slytherin ban, even though it wasn't much at all. Hermione was just as surprised as she had been.

"A House-wide ban? I've never heard of such a thing."

"Neither have I," said Lucy. "I just wish Draco would have been willing to tell me more about it, or least given me a hint about what Pansy had been talking about with Sirius Black. He was very adamant on not telling me anything on either subject."

"We can worry about those topics later," said Hermione. "We need to catch up to Harry and Ron for lunch and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Lucy nodded, and pulled out her own Time-Turner. With two turns of the miniature hourglasses, they went rushing backwards, and landed with heavy thuds in the dungeons.

They both patted themselves over, grabbed the books that they had dropped when they landed, and hurried upstairs to catch up to Harry and Ron.

They found them right at the top of the steps, obviously waiting for them.

"How did you two do that?" said Ron.

"Do what?" said Lucy as she and Hermione joined them, trying to pretend as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

"One minute, both of you were right behind us, the next moment, the two of you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."

"What?" Hermione pretended to slightly confused as she thought up a plausible story. "Oh–I asked Lucy if she would go back with me to help me find something I left behind. Oh no–"

A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Harry wasn't surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked her.

"You know how many classes Hermione and I are taking," said Lucy, bending down to help her. "Couldn't hold some of these for a moment, could you?"

"But–" Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. "Neither of you have got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."

"Oh yes," said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she added.

"I sure hope they made chicken," Lucy chimed, and they marched off toward the Great Hall.

"D'you get the feeling Hermione and Lucy aren't telling us something?" Ron asked Harry, not meaning for them to hear, but they did. Hermione and Lucy exchanged quick, nervous glances. They were going to have to be much more careful from now on.

* * *

Professor Lupin wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Todays will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson before, unless the memorable class last year counted when their old teacher had brought a cage full of pixies to class and set them loose.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin–"

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this, to their surprise, he was still smiling.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves.

However, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand.

"This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely."

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, _"Waddiwasi!"_ and pointed it at Peeves.

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeve's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean," said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?"

They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom.

"Inside, please," said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. Harry and Lucy both glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this _was_ something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under stairs–I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. _This_ one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is_ a boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, but Harry had a go.

"Er–because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake–tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

"The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires a force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is _laughter._ What you need to do is force it to assume shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… _riddikulus!"_

"_Riddikulus!"_ said the class together.

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows.

"Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, and then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful.

"Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er–yes," said Neville nervously. "But–I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Professor Lupin, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville looked startled, but said, "Well… always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" prompted Professor Lupin.

"A big red one," said Neville."

"Right then," said Professor Lupin. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," said Neville uncertainly, plainly wondering what was coming next.

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Lupin. "And you will raise your wand–thus–and cry _'Riddikulus'_–and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," said Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…."

The room went quiet. Harry and Lucy both thought… What scared them most in the world?

Their first thoughts were of Lord Voldemort–a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before either of them had even started to plan a possible counterattack on a boggart-Voldemort, horrible images came floating to the surface of their minds….

In Harry's mind, a rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak… a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth… then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning….

Lucy was envisioning two eyes, shining brightly upon the massive four-legged beast that lurked within the dark shadows of Magnolia Crescent… growling so low under its breath, it brought chills to one's spine….

Harry and Lucy both shivered, glanced at each other, and then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, "Take its legs off." The twins were sure they knew what that was about. Ron's greatest fear was spiders.

"Everyone ready?" said Professor Lupin.

Harry and Lucy both felt lurks of fear. They weren't ready. How could they make the Grim or a dementor less frightening? But neither of them wanted to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

"Neville, we're going to back away," said Professor Lupin. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward…. Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot–"

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One–two–three–_now!"_

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

"_R_–_r_–_riddikulus!"_ squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising–

"_Riddikulus!"_ cried Parvati.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin.

Seamus darted past Parvati.

_Crack!_ Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face–a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Harry's head stand on end and a chill run down Lucy's spine–

"_Riddikulus!_" shouted Seamus.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

_Crack!_ The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then–_crack!_ –became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before–_crack!_ –becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!"

Dean hurried forward.

_Crack!_ The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"_Riddikulus!_" yelled Dean.

There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent! Ron, you next!"

Ron leapt forward.

_Crack!_

Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Harry and Lucy both thought Ron had frozen up. Then–

"_Riddikulus!"_ bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Lucy's feet. She raised her wand, ready, but–

"Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward.

_Crack!_

The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin.

Lucy blinked. Professor Lupin was afraid of the full moon? Before she could dwell any further on that thought, he said, _"Riddikulus!"_ almost lazily.

_Crack!_

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Lupin as the boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. _Crack!_ Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined.

"_Riddikulus!"_ he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

"Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone…. Let me see… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart–ten for Neville because he did it twice… and five each Hermione and Harry."

"But I didn't do anything," said Harry.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Lucy, however, wasn't feeling cheerful, and the only one who seemed to be aware of what she was thinking was Harry. Professor Lupin was deliberately stopped her from tackling the boggart. Why? Was it because he'd seen Harry and Lucy collapse on the train, and thought neither of them were up to much? Had he thought that Lucy, or Harry if he had had a chance with the boggart, would pass out again?

But no one else seemed to have noticed anything.

"Did you see me take that banshee?" shouted Seamus.

"And the hand!" said Dean, waving his own around.

"And Snape in that hand!"

"And my mummy!"

"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" said Lavender thoughtfully.

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" said Ron excitedly as they made their way back to the classroom to get their bags.

"He seems like a very good teacher," said Hermione approvingly. "But I wish I could have had a turn with the boggart–"

What would it have been for you?" said Ron, sniggering. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"


	8. Flight of the Fat Lady

**Woohoo! I finally posted chapter eight! And for those of you who are wondering, my vacation was excellent. I sat writing this entire chapter with paper and a pencil on the beach every day, enjoying the salty sea air. It was wonderful. Now that I'm back to my daily life however, my love for this story has increased ten-fold. My vacation mode let me forget how much I look forward to writing in general in order to tune out my daily life. So although the next chapter isn't completely finished yet, look forward to reading it soon!  
**

**Please, read and review!**

* * *

**Chapter Eight:****Flight of the Fat Lady**

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class. Only Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin.

"Look at the state of his robes," Pansy would say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. "He dresses like an old house-elf."

But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblinlike creature that lurked wherever there had been battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps they moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

Harry and Lucy only wished they were as happy with some of their other classes. Worst of all was Potions. Snape was in a particularly vindictive mood these days, and no one was in any doubt why. The story of the boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire. Snape didn't seem to find it funny. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Professor Lupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever.

Harry was also growing to dread the hours he spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, though Lucy took the class very seriously, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, both of them trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at them. Harry couldn't like Professor Trelawney, even though Lucy and many of the class treated her with respect bordering on reverence. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunchtimes, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't. Lucy's internal debate about occasionally joining them was immediately diminished when they also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to her or Harry, as though they were on their deathbeds.

Lucy was now officially failing Arithmancy. Her confusion over how to decode all the numbers had only gotten worse as the course progressed. Professor Vector had assigned her additional coursework for her most nights, in hopes that more practice would help her to gain a firmer grasp on the material. Unfortunately, it had only made her grade drop further, and she was now being tutored the basics of each lesson nearly every night by Hermione.

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

"Why would anyone _bother_ looking after them?" said Ron, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' slimy throats.

The strangest class Lucy had, however, had to be Ancient Runes. Professor Babbling was now having all of them study the language of early Celtic wizards, and she still had them working in partners. Surprisingly enough, Draco Malfoy was being uncharacteristically civil towards her during lessons, and as time progressed, Lucy slowly realized that he was changing. Although he still spent his free time with the other Slytherins, he was no longer spending his time belittling her and Harry. That job had been taken over by Pansy Parkinson, and even when she did insult them, Lucy began to realize he would only half-heartedly laugh along. She wondered if being put in the Slytherin ban had changed him. She and Hermione had recently been spending some of their free time in the library, trying to research old Slytherin House customs, but so far they had been unsuccessful.

At the start of October, however, Harry and Lucy had something else to occupy them, something so enjoyable it more than made up for their unsatisfactory classes. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Oliver Wood, Captain for the Gryffindor team, called a meeting one Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.

There were eight people on a Quidditch team: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals b putting the Quaffle (a red, soccer-sized ball) through one of the fifty-foot-high hoops at each end of the field; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two heavy black balls that zoomed around trying to attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the goal posts, and the two Seeker's, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points.

Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his seven fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

"This is our last chance–_my_ last chance–to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it.

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world–injuries–then the tournament getting called off last year…" Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the_ best_–_ruddy_–_team_–_in_–_the_–_school,"_ he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye.

"We've got three _superb_ Chasers."

Wood pointed at Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.

"We've got two _unbeatable_ Beaters."

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush.

"And we've got two _incredible_ Seekers who have _never failed to win us a match!"_ Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry and Lucy with a kind of furious pride. "And me," he added as an after thought.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," said George.

"Spanking good Keeper," said Fred.

"The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry and Lucy joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing…."

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George look sympathetic.

"Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" said Angelina.

"Definitely," said Harry and Lucy together.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Harry and Lucy's wonderful visions of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

They returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, both of them cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's going on?" Lucy asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."

"Excellent," said Fred, who had followed Harry and Lucy through the portrait hole. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

Harry and Lucy threw themselves into chairs beside Ron and Hermione, their high spirits ebbing away. Hermione seemed to read their minds.

"Harry, Lucy, I'm sure you'll both be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

"Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall if you can both go this time. The next one might not be for ages–"

"_Ron!"_ said Hermione. "Harry and Lucy are supposed to stay _in school_–_"_

"They can't be the only third years left behind," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry, Lucy–"

"Yeah, I think we will," said Harry, he and Lucy having made up their minds.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue but at that moment Crookshanks leapt lightly onto her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from his mouth.

"Does he have to eat that in front of us?" said Ron, scowling.

"Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?" said Hermione.

Crookshanks slowly chewed up the spider, his yellow eyes fixed insolently on Ron.

"Just keep him over there, that's all," said Ron irritably, turning back to his star chart. "I've got Scabbers asleep in my bag."

Lucy yawned. She really wanted to go to bed, but she and Harry still had their own star charts to complete, not to mention Arithmancy homework as well. She pulled her bag toward her, took out parchment, ink, and a quill, and started to work.

"You guys can copy mine, if you like," said Ron, labeling his last star with a flourish and shoving the chart toward her and Harry.

Hermione, who disapproved of copying, pursed her lips but didn't say anything. Crookshanks was still staring unblinkingly at Ron, flicking the end of his bushy tail. Then, without warning, he pounced.

"OY!" Ron roared, seizing his bag as Crookshanks sank four sets of claws deep inside it and began tearing ferociously. "GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!"

Ron tried to pull the bag away from Crookshanks, but Crookshanks clung on, spitting and slashing.

"Ron, don't hurt him!" squealed Hermione; the whole common room was watching; Ron whirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came flying out of the top–

"CATCH THAT CAT!" Ron yelled as Crookshanks freed himself from the remnants of the bag, sprang over the table, and chased after the terrified Scabbers.

George Weasley made a lunge for Crookshanks but missed; Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs and shot beneath an old chest of drawers. Crookshanks skidded to a halt, and started making furious swipes beneath it with his front paw.

Ron and Hermione hurried over; Hermione grabbed Crookshanks around the middle and heaved him away; Ron threw himself onto his stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled Scabbers out by the tail.

"Look at him!" he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Scabbers in front of her. "He's skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!"

"Crookshanks doesn't understand it's wrong!" said Hermione, her voice shaking. "All cats chase rats, Ron!"

"There's something funny about that animal!" said Ron, who was trying to persuade a frantically wriggling Scabbers back into his pocket. "It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!"

"Oh, what rubbish," said Hermione impatiently. "Crookshanks could _smell_ him, Ron, how else d'you think–"

"That cat's got it in for Scabbers!" said Ron, ignoring the people around him, who were starting to giggle. "And Scabbers was here first, _and_ he's ill!"

Ron marched through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

* * *

Ron was still in a bad mood with Hermione the next day. He barely talked to her at all through Herbology, even though he, Harry, Lucy, and Hermione were working together on the same puffapod.

"How's Scabbers?" Hermione asked timidly as they stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail.

"He's hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking," said Ron angrily, missing the pail and scattering beans over the greenhouse floor.

"Careful, Weasley, careful!" cried Professor Sprout as the beans burst into bloom before their very eyes.

They had Transfiguration next. Harry and Lucy, who had both resolved to ask Professor McGonagall after the lesson whether they could go into Hogsmeade with the rest, joined the line outside the class trying to decide how they were going to argue their case. They were distracted, however, by a disturbance at the front of the line.

Lavender Brown seemed to be crying. Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were looking very serious.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" said Lucy anxiously as she, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to join the group.

"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh," said Hermione, "I'm sorry, Lavender."

"I should have known!" said Lavender tragically. "You know what day it is?"

"Er–"

"The sixteenth of October! 'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!' Remember? She was right, she was right!"

The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, "You–you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Well, not necessarily by a _fox,"_ said Lavender, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes, "but I was _obviously _dreading him dying, wasn't I?"

"Oh," said Hermione. She paused again. Then–

"Was Binky an _old_ rabbit?"

"N-no!" sobbed Lavender. "H-he was only a baby!"

Parvati tightened her arm around Lavender's shoulders.

"But then, why would you dread him dying?" said Hermione.

Parvati glared at her.

"Well, look at it logically," said Hermione, turning to the rest of the group. "I mean, Binky didn't even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today–" Lavender wailed loudly. "–and she _can't_ have been dreading it, because it's come as a real shock–"

"Don't mind Hermione, Lavender," said Ron loudly, "she doesn't think other people's pets matter very much."

Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, which was perhaps lucky; Hermione and Ron were glaring daggers at each other, and when they got into class, they seated themselves on either side of Harry and Lucy and didn't talk to each other for the whole class.

Harry and Lucy still hadn't decided what they were going to say to Professor McGonagall when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first.

"One moment, please!" she called as the class made to leave. "As you're all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Neville put up his hand.

"Please, Professor, I–I think I've lost–"

"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that's all, you may leave."

"Ask her now," Ron hissed at the twins.

"Oh, but–" Hermione began.

"Go for it, Harry, Lucy," said Ron stubbornly.

Harry and Lucy waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Yes, Potter's?"

Harry and Lucy both took deep breaths.

"Professor," Harry began, "our aunt and uncle–er–forgot to sign our forms."

Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at them but didn't say anything.

"So–er–d'you think it would be all right–I mean, will it be okay if we–if we go to Hogsmeade?"

Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk.

"I'm afraid not, Potter's," she said. "You heard what I said. No forms, no visiting the village. That's the rule."

"But–Professor," Lucy timidly protested, "our aunt and uncle–they're Muggles, they–they aren't really understanding about–about Hogwarts and magic… If–if you said we could go–"

"But I don't say so," said Professor McGonagall, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. "The forms clearly state that a parent or guardian must give permission." She turned to look at them, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? "I'm sorry, Potter', but that's my final word. You both had better hurry, or you'll be late for your next lessons."

* * *

There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an "all-for-the-best" expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry and Lucy had to endure everyone in class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Hogsmeade.

"There's always the feast," said Ron, in an effort to cheer Harry and Lucy up. "You know, the Halloween feast, in the evening?"

"Yeah," said the twins gloomily, "great."

The Halloween feast was always good, but it would taste a lot better if they were coming to it after a day in Hogsmeade with everyone else. Nothing anyone said made them feel any better about being left behind. Dean Thomas, who was good with a quill, had offered to forge Uncle Vernon's signatures on the forms, but as Harry and Lucy had already told Professor McGonagall they hadn't had them signed, that was no good. Ron halfheartedly suggested the Invisibility Cloak, but Hermione stamped on that one, reminding Ron what Dumbledore had told them about dementors being able to see through them. Percy had what were possibly the least helpful words of comfort.

"They make a fuss about Hogsmeade, but I assure you both, Harry, Lucy, it's not all it's cracked up to be," he said seriously. "All right, the sweetshop's rather good, and Zonko's Joke Shop's frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack's always worth a visit, but really, Harry, Lucy, apart from that, you're not missing anything."

* * *

On Halloween morning, Harry and Lucy awoke with the rest and went down to breakfast, both of them feeling thoroughly depressed, though they were both doing their best to act normally.

"We'll bring both of you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes," said Hermione, look desperately sorry for them.

"Yeah, loads," said Ron. He and Hermione had finally forgotten their squabble about Crookshanks in the face of Harry and Lucy's difficulties.

"Don't worry about us," said Harry, in what he hoped was an offhanded voice, "we'll see you at the feast."

"Have a good time, Ron, Hermione," said Lucy, forcing her face into a cheerful smile.

They accompanied them to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn't be going.

"Staying here, Potter's?" shouted Pansy Parkinson, who was standing in line with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. "Scared of passing the dementors?"

Harry and Lucy both ignored her and made their solitary way up the marble staircase.

"Guess we should head back to the common room," said Harry dully.

Lucy nodded, and they down the deserted corridors and back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Password?" said the Fat Lady, jerking out of a daze.

"Fortuna Major," said Harry and Lucy listlessly together.

The portrait swung open and they climbed through the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first and second years, and a few older students, who had obviously visited Hogsmeade so often the novelty had worn off.

"Harry! Lucy! Hi!"

It was Colin Creevey. A second year who was deeply in awe of Harry and Lucy and never missed an opportunity to speak to them.

"Aren't you two going to Hogsmeade, Harry, Lucy? Why not? Hey" –Colin looked eagerly around at his friends– "you can both come and sit with us, if you like, Harry, Lucy!"

"Er–no, thanks, Colin," said Harry, who wasn't in the mood to have a lot of people staring avidly at his and Lucy's scars on their foreheads. Normally, Lucy would've been angry with Harry for brushing Colin aside since she considered Colin to be a rather good friend of hers, but even she was too depressed to be around him right now.

"Sorry, Colin," she said, "but–but Harry and I've got to go to the library. We have to get some work done."

After that, they had no choice but to turn right around and head back out of the portrait hole again.

"What was the point of waking me up?" the Fat Lady called grumpily after them as they walked away.

"Lucy," said Harry as they walked dispiritedly toward the library. "Do you really feel like doing homework now?"

"Not particularly," she said dully. "Why? D'you want to go somewhere else?"

"Maybe. Come on."

They turned around and came face-to-face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors.

"What are you two doing?" Filch snarled suspiciously.

"Nothing," said the twins truthfully.

"Nothing!" spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. "A likely story! Both of you sneaking around on your own–why aren't both of you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?"

Harry shrugged, and Lucy stared down at her feet.

"Well, get back to your common room where you belong!" snapped Filch, and he stood glaring until Harry and Lucy had passed out of sight.

But Harry and Lucy didn't go back to the common room; they climbed a staircase, vaguely discussing on perhaps visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig, and they were walking along another corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, "Harry? Lucy?"

Harry and Lucy doubled back to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door.

"What are both of you doing?" said Lupin, though in a very different voice from Filch. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Hogsmeade," said Harry and Lucy, in would-be casual voices.

"Ah," said Lupin. He considered Harry and Lucy for a moment. "Why don't you both come in? I've just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson."

"A what?" said the twins together.

They followed Lupin into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

"Water demon," said Lupin, surveying the grindylow thoughtfully. "We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."

The grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.

"Cup of tea?" Lupin said, looking around for his kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."

"All right," said Harry awkwardly.

"Yes, please," said Lucy pleasantly.

Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.

"Sit down," said Lupin, taking the lid off a dusty tin. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid–but I daresay you've both had enough of tea leaves?"

Harry and Lucy looked at him. Lupin's eyes were twinkling.

"How did you find out about that?" Lucy asked.

"Professor McGonagall told me," said Lupin, passing Harry and Lucy two chipped mugs of tea. "You're not worried, are you?"

"No," said Harry quickly, before Lucy could say yes.

Lucy thought for a moment of telling Lupin about the dog they'd both seen in Magnolia Crescent, but decided not to. She didn't want Lupin to think she was a coward, especially since Lupin seemed to think she couldn't cope with a boggart.

Something of Lucy's thoughts seemed to have shown on her face, because Lupin said, "Anything worrying you, Lucy?"

"N-no," Lucy quickly lied. She drank a bit of tea and watched the grindylow brandishing a fist at her. "Actually, yes," she said a few moments later, putting her tea down on Lupin's desk. "Well, you know that day we fought the boggart in the staff office?"

"Yes," said Lupin slowly.

"Why didn't you let me fight it?" said Lucy abruptly.

Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"I would have thought that was obvious, Lucy," he said, sounding surprised.

Harry and Lucy, who had both expected Lupin to deny that he'd done any such thing, were both taken aback.

"Why?" she said again.

"Well," said Lupin, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the boggart faced you, or Harry, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."

Harry and Lucy stared. Not only was this the last answer either of them had expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort's name. The only person Harry and Lucy had ever heard say the name (apart from themselves) was Professor Dumbledore.

"Clearly, I was wrong," said Lupin, still frowning at the twins. "But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic."

"I didn't think of Voldemort," said Harry honestly. "I–I remembered those dementors."

"I didn't think of Voldemort either, sir," said Lucy. "I–I thought of," she paused, deciding whether or not to lie, "the Grim."

"I see," said Lupin thoughtfully. "Well, well… I'm impressed." He smiled slightly at the looks of surprise on Harry and Lucy's faces. "That suggests that what both of you fear most of all is–fear. Very wise, Harry, Lucy."

Harry and Lucy didn't know what to say to that, so they both drank some more tea.

"So you've both been thinking that I didn't believe either of you were capable of fighting the boggart?" said Lupin shrewdly.

"Well… yeah," said Lucy. She was suddenly feeling a lot happier.

"Professor Lupin," said Harry, "you know the dementors–"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," called Lupin.

The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry and Lucy, his black eyes narrowing.

"Ah, Severus," said Lupin, smiling. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry, Lucy, and Lupin.

"I was just showing Harry and Lucy my grindylow," said Lupin pleasantly, pointing at the tank.

"Fascinating," said Snape, without looking at it. "You should drink that directly, Lupin."

"Yes, yes, I will," said Lupin.

"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape continued. "If you need more."

"I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus."

"Not at all," said Snape, but there was a look in his eye Harry and Lucy didn't like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.

Harry and Lucy both looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled.

"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me," he said. "I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex." He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. "Pity sugar makes it useless," he added, taking a sip and shuddering.

"Why–?" Lucy began. Lupin looked at her and answered the unfinished question.

"I've been feeling a bit off-color," he said. "This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it."

Professor Lupin took another sip and Harry and Lucy both had the crazy urge to knock the goblet out of his hands.

"S-sir, Professor Snape's v-very interested in the Dark Arts," Lucy blurted out, doing her very best not to stutter.

"Really?" said Lupin, looking only mildly interested as he took another gulp of potion.

"Some people reckon–" Harry hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, "some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job."

Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face.

"Disgusting," he said. "Well, Harry, Lucy, I'd better get back to work. I'll see both of you at the feast later."

"Right," said Harry, he and Lucy putting down their empty teacups.

"Thank you again, sir," said Lucy.

The empty goblet was still smoking.

* * *

"There you go," said Ron. "We got as much as we could carry."

A shower of brilliantly colored sweets fell into Harry and Lucy's laps. It was dusk, and Ron and Hermione had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the cold winds and looking as though they'd had the time of their lives.

"Thanks," said Harry, picking up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps.

"What's Hogsmeade like?" Lucy asked, tearing open a honey-colored toffee. "Where did both of you go?"

By the sound of it–everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko's Joke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, and many places besides.

"The post office, Harry, Lucy! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!"

"Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples, there's a bit, look–"

"We _think_ we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks–"

"Wish we could have brought both of you some butterbeer, really warms you up–"

"What did both of you do?" said Hermione, looking anxious. "Did either of you get any work done?"

"No," said Lucy. "We spent our free time with Professor Lupin."

"He made us both cups of tea in his office," Harry explained. "And then Snape came in."

They told them all about the goblet. Ron's mouth fell open.

"_Lupin drank it?"_ he gasped. "Is he mad?"

Hermione checked her watch.

"We'd better go down, you know, the feast'll be starting in five minutes…." They hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd, still discussing Snape.

"But if he–you know" –Hermione dropped her voice, glancing nervously around– "if he _was_ trying to–to poison Lupin–he wouldn't have done it in front of Harry and Lucy."

"Yeah, maybe," said Harry as they reached the entrance hall and crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering lives bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant water snakes.

The food was delicious; even Hermione and Ron, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything. Harry and Lucy kept glancing at the staff table. Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. Harry and Lucy moved their eyes along the table, to the place where Snape sat. Were they imagining it, or were Snape's eyes flickering toward Lupin more often than was natural?

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.

It had been such a pleasant evening that Harry and Lucy's good moods couldn't even be spoiled by Pansy, who shouted through the crowd as they all left the hall, "The dementors send their love, Potter's!"

Lucy caught Malfoy's eye as soon as Pansy turned away. She debated for a moment, and then smiled brightly and waved to him. Malfoy jumped, clearly not expecting this, then he hesitantly smiled and waved back.

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the Gryffindors along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" said Ron curiously.

Harry and Lucy both peered over the heads in front of them. The portrait seemed to be closed.

"Let me through, please," came Percy's voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the hold up here? You can't all have forgotten the password–excuse me, I'm Head Boy–"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe.

"What's going on?" said Ginny, who had just arrived.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through, and Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione moved closer to see what the trouble was.

"Oh, my–" Hermione grabbed Lucy's arm.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle.

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing," he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

HermH


	9. Grim Defeat

**Okay, I know I promised to be speedy now that it's summer, but I got sick right after I posted the last chapter. For the past two weeks I've been hacking up my lungs, and I'm only now feeling well enough to write. I've yet to start writing the next chapter, but don't forget, the next chapter is when Harry and Lucy will get the Mauraders Map, and that's always been one of my favorite parts of the entire series. So, unless I take a turn for the worse, I will try, I repeat, TRY to get the next chapter out soon.**

**As always, please read and review!**

* * *

**Chapter Nine:****Grim Defeat**

Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbances should be reported to me immediately," he added to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing…"

One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," said Professor Dumbledore, closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" shouted Percy. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"C'mon," Ron said to Harry, Lucy, and Hermione; they seized four sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner.

"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered anxiously.

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," said Ron.

"It's very lucky he picked tonight, you know," said Hermione as they climbed fully dressed into their sleeping bags and propped themselves on their elbows to talk. "The one night we weren't in the tower…"

"Lucky? I call it strange," said Lucy. "It's Halloween. Black should've known that Harry and I would have been at the feast."

"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," said Ron. "Didn't realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here."

Hermione shuddered.

All around them, people were asking one another the same question: _"How did he get in?"_

"Maybe he knows how to Apparate," said a Ravenclaw a few feet away. "Just appear out of thin air, you know."

"Disguised himself, probably," said a Hufflepuff fifth year.

"He could've flown in," suggested Dean Thomas.

"Honestly, am I the _only_ person who's ever bothered to read _Hogwarts, A History?"_ said Hermione crossly to Harry, Lucy, and Ron.

"Probably," said Ron. "Why?"

"Because the castle's protected by more than _walls,_ you know," said Hermione. "There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just Apparate in here. And I'd like to see the disguise that could fool those dementors. They're guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They'd have seen him fly in too. And Filch knows all the secret passages, they'll have them covered…."

"The lights are going out now! Percy shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

The candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. What with that, and the whispering that still filled the hall, Harry and Lucy felt as though they were sleeping outdoors in a light wind.

Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, when many students had finally fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in. The twins watched him looking around for Percy, who had been prowling between the sleeping bags, telling people off for talking. Percy was only a short way away from Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione, who quickly pretended to be asleep as Dumbledore's footsteps drew nearer.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" asked Percy in a whisper.

"No. All well here?"

"Everything under control, sir."

"Good. There's no point moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

"And the Fat Lady, sir?"

"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr. Filch restore her."

Harry and Lucy heard the door of the hall open again, and more footsteps.

"Headmaster?" It was Snape. Harry and Lucy both kept quite still, listening hard. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there, either."

"What about the Astronomy Tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"

"All searched…"

"Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" asked Snape.

Harry raised his head very slightly off his arms to free his other ear, and Lucy, ever so discreetly, slid her head farther out from the inside of her sleeping bag so she could hear better.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

Lucy opened her eyes a fraction and squinted up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to her, but she could see Percy's face, rapt with attention, and Snape's profile, which looked angry.

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before–ah–the start of term?" said Snape, who was barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Percy out of the conversation.

"I do, Severus," said Dumbledore, and there was something like warning in his voice.

"It seems–almost impossible–that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed–"

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," said Dumbledore, and his tone made it so clear that the subject was closed that Snape didn't reply. "I must go down to the dementors," said Dumbledore. "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" said Percy.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore coldly. "But I'm afraid no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster."

Percy looked slightly abashed. Dumbledore left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape stood for a moment, watching the headmaster with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he too left.

Harry and Lucy glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. Both of them had their eyes open too, reflecting the starry ceiling.

"What was all that about?" Ron mouthed.

* * *

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of their next Herbology class telling anyone who'd listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub.

The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat gray pony. Nobody was very happy about this. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day.

"He's a complete lunatic," said Seamus Finnigan angrily to Percy. "Can't we get anyone else?"

"None of the other pictures wanted the job," said Percy. "Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer."

Sir Cadogan, however, was the least of Harry and Lucy's worries. They were now both being closely watched. Teachers found excuses to walk along corridors with them, and Percy Weasley (acting, Harry and Lucy both suspected, on his mother's orders) was tailing them everywhere like an extremely pompous guard dog. To cap it all, Professor McGonagall summoned Harry and Lucy into her office, with such a somber expression on her face Harry and Lucy both thought someone must have died.

"There's no point hiding it from both of you any longer, Potter's," she said in a very serious voice. "I know this will come as a shock to you both, but Sirius Black–"

"Harry and I already know, Professor," said Lucy wearily. "We both know that Sirius Black is after us."

"We heard Ron's dad telling his mum," Harry explained. "Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry of Magic."

Professor McGonagall seemed very taken aback. She stared at Harry and Lucy for a moment or two, then said, "I see! Well, in that case, Potter's, you'll both understand why I don't think it's a good idea for either of you to be practicing Quidditch in the evenings. Out on the field with only your team members, it's very exposed, Potter's–"

"Professor, no! Our first match is on Saturday!"

"We've got to train!"

Professor McGonagall considered them intently. The twins knew she was deeply interested in the Gryffindor team's prospects; it had been she, after all, who'd suggested them as Seekers in the first place. They waited, both of them holding their breath.

"Hmm…" Professor McGonagall stood up and stared out the window at the Quidditch field, just visible through the rain. "Well… goodness knows, I'd like to see us win the Cup at last… but all the same, Potter's…. I'd be happier if a teacher were present. I'll ask Madam Hooch to oversee your training sessions."

* * *

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team was training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch. Then, at their final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver Wood gave his team some unwelcome news.

"We're not playing Slytherin!" he told them, looking very angry. "Flint's just been to see me. We're playing Hufflepuff instead."

"Why?" chorused the rest of the team.

"Flint's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured," said Wood, grinding his teeth furiously. "But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances…."

There had been strong winds and heavy rains all day, and as Wood spoke, they heard a distant rumble of thunder.

"There's _nothing wrong_ with Malfoy's arm!" said Harry furiously. "He's faking it!"

"I know that, but we can't prove it," said Wood bitterly. "And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory–"

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie suddenly giggled.

"What?" said Wood, frowning at this lighthearted behavior.

"He's that tall, good-looking one, isn't he?" said Angelina.

"Strong and silent," said Katie, and they started to giggle again.

"He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together," said Fred impatiently. "I don't know why you're worried, Oliver, Hufflepuff is a pushover. Last time we played them, Lucy caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?"

"We were playing in completely different conditions!" Wood shouted, his eyes bulging slightly. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He and McGuffin are excellent Seeker's! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We _must_ win!"

"Oliver, calm down!" said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. _Seriously."_

* * *

The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy.

"Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better," he sighed as the gale outside pounded the windows.

Lucy's anger toward Malfoy grew every time she'd overhear him say this. She had truly thought he was possibly changing into a good person, and then he goes and pulls a stunt like this. Why? She desperately wanted answers.

But Lucy had no room in her head to worry about anything except the match tomorrow. Oliver Wood kept hurrying up to her and Harry between classes and giving them tips. The third time this happened, Wood talked for so long that Harry and Lucy both suddenly realized they were ten minutes late for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and they set off at a run with Wood shouting after them, "Diggory's got a fast swerve, Harry, Lucy, so you might want to try looping him, and McGuffin's known for being super fast–"

Harry and Lucy both skidded to a halt outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry pulled the door open, and they dashed inside.

"Sorry we're late, Professor Lupin, we–"

But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at them from the teacher's desk; it was Snape.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Mr. Potter, Miss Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points each from Gryffindor. Sit down."

Not wanting to possibly lose any more points, Lucy moved toward her seat, but Harry grabbed her hand to force her to stay right where she was.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" he said.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you both to sit down?"

Again, Harry stopped Lucy from going to her seat.

"What's wrong with him?"

Snape's black eyes glittered.

"Nothing life threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it were. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask or you prevent your sister from sitting down again, Mr. Potter, it will be fifty."

Harry reluctantly let go of Lucy's hand, and they both walked slowly to their seats and sat down. Snape looked around at the class.

"As I was saying before the Potter's interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far–"

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start–"

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you–I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss–"

Harry and Lucy watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn't covered.

"–werewolves," said Snape.

"But, sir," said Hermione, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks–"

"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. _"All _of you! _Now!"_

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" said Snape.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.

"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between–"

"We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on–"

"_Silence!"_ snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…."

"Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf–"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they were all glaring at him, because every one of them (with the exception of Lucy who had been friends with Hermione ever since they first met) had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

The class knew instantly he'd gone too far. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.

"Detention, Weasley," Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained… That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia…. Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three…."

When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."

Harry, Lucy, and Hermione left the room with the rest of the class, who waited until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape.

"Snape's never been like this with any of our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job," Harry said to Lucy and Hermione.

"It really is weird," Lucy agreed. "Why'd he got it in for Professor Lupin? Is it because of the boggart?"

"I don't know," said Hermione pensively. "But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon…."

Ron caught up with them five minutes later, in a towering rage.

"D'you know what that–" (he called Snape something that made Hermione say _"Ron!",_ and Lucy to stare at him with a shocked expression) "–is making me do? I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing._ Without magic!"_ He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched. "Why couldn't Black have hidden in Snape's office, eh? He could have finished him off for us!"

As they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower listening to Ron's continuous rants, Lucy caught sight of Malfoy walking alone down another corridor. Anger swelled up inside her as she remembered the Quidditch match tomorrow, and she turned around, and marched off after him.

"Luce, where you going?" Harry called.

"Go on ahead, I'll catch up!" she yelled back before disappearing around a corner.

It took Malfoy quite some time to realize that Lucy was following him. When he finally realized it and turned around, Lucy stopped walking and fixed him with an icy glare as she jammed her hands on her hips. Malfoy gulped, obviously knowing why she was here.

"Hey," he said nervously. "I'm sure you must be mad–"

"You have three seconds," said Lucy, taking out her wand, "to tell me why you're using your so-called injury to get the entire Slytherin team out of tomorrow's match!"

Malfoy stared at her for several moments before turning around and walking away.

"Because it's what my team told me to do," he muttered. Lucy, however, wasn't going to be that easily brushed aside. She ran up and pushed him against the nearest wall.

"I never took you as the type who just does whatever he's been ordered," she said, folding her arms. "Now, start telling me the truth, Draco."

"Draco?" Malfoy said with surprise. "You called me Draco." Lucy rolled her eyes.

"Of course. It's only natural to call people by their first names."

"But–you've never called me by my first name before, Lucy," he pointed out.

Lucy blinked. She hadn't even realized that.

"I'd like to say I called you by your first name because we both consider one another to be friends, seeing as how you also called me by my first name," she coolly pointed out. "So are we?"

"Er–yeah, I guess we are," Malfoy said awkwardly.

"Then as my _friend,_ tell me the truth," said Lucy. "We both know your arm isn't as bad as you're pretending it to be."

Malfoy sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about all the trouble I caused your House team, but mine threatened to instill a ban on me again if I didn't agree to pretend to be still too injured to play. We all know we'd lose if we flew against you in the current weather."

"There it is again, a ban," Lucy noted. "What _is_ a ban?"

"I already told you," Malfoy grumbled, starting to turn away. "It's an old Slytherin House custom."

"But what _happens _in a ban?" Lucy pressed on. "What's so bad about it that you're willing to do whatever any other Slytherin orders you to do?"

Malfoy paused, seeming to be debating something, then he finally shook his head.

"It's none of your business! That's between me and the other people in my house!"

Then he ran, before Lucy could ask him anything else.

As she started to walk back to the common room, she suddenly remembered her tealeaves back in the first lesson of Divination: you will have a troublesome secret with a new friend. She and Draco Malfoy were friends. The other Gryffindors (with the exception of Hermione) would become furious if they to ever learn about this, not to mention how Harry would react, and it was anyone's guess what the Slytherins would do if they were to find out.

It seemed her tealeaves had been quite right. She was going to have a troublesome time keeping her newfound friendship with Draco Malfoy a secret.

* * *

Lucy woke extremely early the next morning; so early that it was still dark. For a moment she thought the roaring of the wind had woken her. Then she felt a cold breeze on the back of her neck and sat bolt upright–Peeves the Poltergeist had been floating next to her, blowing hard in her ear.

"Cut it out, Peeves!" said Lucy furiously.

Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard, and zoomed backward out of the room, cackling.

Lucy fumbled for her alarm clock and looked at it. It was half past four. Cursing Peeves, she rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but it was very difficult, now that she was awake, to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours she would be out on the Quidditch field, battling through that gale. Finally, she gave up any thought of more sleep, got up, dressed, picked up her Nimbus Two Thousand, and walked quietly out of the dormitory.

As Lucy descended down the spiral staircase, she suddenly heard a voice coming from the common room. Her brother's voice.

"You know, I reckon Ron was right about you," she heard him say. "There are plenty of mice around this place–go and chase them. Go on. Leave Scabbers alone."

She went down the last few steps. Harry was standing at the foot of the stairs to the boys' dormitories, fully dressed like her and holding his broomstick in one hand, and holding back a struggling Crookshanks from going up the stairs in the other.

"Harry? What're you doing up, and what're you doing to poor Crookshanks?"

Harry looked up, noticing her there for the first time.

"I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep," he said, shooing the ginger cat away from the stairs. "I figured I'd just get up for the day. What're you doing up this early?"

"The same thing as you, except I was rudely awakened by Peeves," she said. "But you didn't answer my question. What were you doing to Crookshanks?"

"I just caught him trying to slip upstairs into my dormitory. I'm starting to think Ron might be somewhat right about that cat. Don't you think it's odd that he only seems to want to chase after Scabbers? There's plenty of mice around here for him to chase. Why does he only want Scabbers?"

"It's probably just because Crookshanks is around Scabbers so much," said Lucy, brushing the matter aside as they went down the spiral staircase. "Anyway, do you think the match might actually get cancelled due to the weather?"

"Of course not. Matches aren't cancelled simply because of bad weather."

"I know, but I can't help but feel somewhat worried. You saw how big Diggory is!"

Harry slowly nodded. Wood had pointed out Cedric Diggory and Alan McGuffin to them in the corridor; McGuffin was a fourth and small and skinny like them, but Diggory was a fifth year and a lot bigger than Harry and Lucy. Seekers were usually light and speedy, but Diggory's weight would be an advantage in this weather because he was less likely to be blown off course.

Harry and Lucy whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, getting up now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up the boys' staircase again. At long last the twins thought it must be time for breakfast, so they headed through the portrait hole together.

"Stand up and fight, you mangy curs!" yelled Sir Cadogan.

"Oh, shut up," Harry yawned.

They revived a bit over large bowls of porridge, and by the time they'd started on toast and eggs, the rest of the team had turned up.

"It's going to be a tough one," said Wood, who wasn't eating anything.

"Stop worrying, Oliver," said Alicia soothingly, "we don't mind a bit of rain."

But it was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch fields, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Just before they entered the locker room, Harry and Lucy saw Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, laughing and pointing at them from under an enormous umbrella they were sharing with Malfoy on their way to the stadium.

Draco caught Lucy's eye as she followed Harry inside the locker rooms, and sent her an encouraging smile before vanishing with his friends into the stadium.

The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He tried to speak several times, made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned them to follow him.

The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was splattering over Harry's glasses and was dripping into Lucy's eyes. The twins glanced at one another worriedly. How on earth were they going to see the Snitch in this?

The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the field, wearing canary-yellow robes. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded. The twins saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount your brooms." Lucy pulled her right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over her Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant–they were off.

Lucy rose fast, but her Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. She held it as steady as she could and turned, squinting into the rain.

Within five minutes Harry and Lucy were soaked to their skin and frozen, hardly able to see each other or their teammates, let alone the tiny Snitch. They both flew backward and forward across the field past blurred red and yellow shapes, neither of them having any idea of what was happening in the rest of the game. They couldn't hear the commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas. Twice Lucy came very close to being unseated by a Bludger; her vision was so clouded by the rain dripping from her hair into her eyes she hadn't seem them coming.

They lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder for them to hold their brooms straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. Twice Harry and Lucy nearly hit other players, without knowing whether it was a teammate or opponent; everyone was now so wet.

With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle; Lucy could just see the outline of Wood thorough the thick rain, gesturing her and Harry to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.

"I called for time-out!" Wood roared at his team. "Come on, under here–"

They huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella; Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes, and Lucy did her best to dry off her face.

"Wood, what's the score?" said Lucy.

"We're fifty points up," said Wood, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night."

At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming.

"I've had an idea! Harry, give me your glasses! Lucy, hold very still!"

Harry handed his glasses to her, and as the team watched in amazement, Hermione tapped them with her wand and said, _"Impervious!"_ Then she turned to Lucy, tapped the bridge of her nose with her wand, and repeated the spell.

"There!" she said. "Your glasses and face will repel water!"

Wood looked as though he could have kissed her.

"Brilliant!" he called hoarsely after her as she disappeared into the crowd. "Okay, team, let's go for it!"

Hermione's spell had done the trick. Lucy was still numb with cold, still wetter than she'd ever been in her life, but she could see. Full of fresh determination, she urged her broom through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath Alan McGuffin, who was streaking in the opposite direction….

There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous. She or Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly–

She turned, intending to shout something to Harry who was flying nearby, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry and Lucy saw something that distracted them both completely–the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.

Lucy's numb hands slipped on the broom handle and her Nimbus dropped a few feet. Shaking her sodden bangs out of her eyes, she squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished.

Lucy's head whipped around toward Harry. His expression told it all. She hadn't simply imagined that dog.

"Harry! Lucy!" came Wood's anguished yell from the Gryffindor goal posts. "Behind you both!"

Harry and Lucy both looked wildly around. Cedric Diggory and Alan McGuffin were both pelting up the field, and a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain-filled air in front of them–

With jolts of panic, both Harry and Lucy threw themselves flat to the broomstick handles and they zoomed toward the Snitch.

"Come on," Lucy growled at her Nimbus as the rain whipped her face. _"Faster!"_

But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Lucy had gone suddenly deaf–she turned her broom and met Harry's confused gaze. What was going on?

And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over her, inside her, just as she became aware of something moving on the field below….

Before she had time to think, Lucy had taken her eyes off the Snitch and looked down.

At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at her and Harry, were standing beneath them. It was as though freezing water was rising in her chest, cutting at her insides. And then she heard it again…. Someone was screaming, screaming inside her head… a woman…

"_Not Harry and Lucy, not Harry and Lucy, please not my children!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…."_

"_Not Harry and Lucy, please no, take me, kill me instead_–_"_

Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Lucy's brain…. What was she doing? Why was she flying? She needed to help her…. That woman was going to die…. She was going to be murdered….

She was falling, falling through the icy mist.

"_Not Harry and Lucy! Please… have mercy… have mercy…."_

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Lucy knew no more.

* * *

"Lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought they were both dead for sure."

"But they didn't even break their necks."

Lucy could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. She didn't have a clue where she was, or how she got there, or what she'd been doing before she got there. All she knew was that every inch of her was aching as though it had been beaten.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Scariest… the scariest thing… hooded black figures… cold… screaming…

Lucy slowly opened her eyes. She was lying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, splattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around her and Harry's bed. He was lying down on a bed right next to her, and, like her, he seemed to only just be waking up. Ron and Hermione were also there, looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool.

"Harry! Lucy!" said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath the mud. "How're you both feeling?"

It was as though Harry and Lucy's memories were on fast forward. The lightning–the Grim–the Snitch–and the dementors…

"What happened?" they both said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

"You both fell off," said Fred. "Must've been–what–fifty feet?"

"We thought you both died," said Alicia, who was still shaking.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Are we doing a replay?"

No one said anything. The horrible truth sank into the twins like stones.

"We didn't–we didn't _lose?"_ said Lucy.

"Diggory got the Snitch," said George. "Just after both of you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw both of you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square… even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.

"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself."

"Is he… is he mad at us?" said Lucy timidly.

"Of course not!" said George. "He's upset naturally, but even realizes that what happened wasn't yours or Harry's fault."

Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair, and Lucy could only hang her head in shame. Fred and George grabbed their shoulders and shook them roughly.

"C'mon, Harry, Lucy, neither of you've ever missed the Snitch before."

"There had to be one time one of you didn't get it," said George.

"It's not over yet," said Fred. "We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…"

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," said George.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw…"

"No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff…"

"It all depends on the points–a margin of a hundred either way–"

Harry and Lucy both laid there, staring at one another but not saying a word. They had lost… for the first time ever, they had lost a Quidditch match.

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave them both in peace.

"We'll come and see you guys later," Fred told them. "Don't beat yourselves up, Harry, Lucy, you're both still the best Seekers we've ever had."

The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Ron and Hermione moved nearer to Harry and Lucy's beds.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you both fell, waved his wand, and you both sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away…. He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him–"

"Then he magicked you both onto stretchers," said Ron. "And walked up to school with you both floating on them. Everyone thought you guys were…"

His voice faded, but Harry and Lucy hardly noticed. They were both thinking about what the dementors had done to them… about the screaming voice. They both looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at them so anxiously that they both quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.

"Where are our brooms?" said Lucy curiously.

Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other.

"Er–"

"What?" said Harry and Lucy together, looking from one to the other.

"Well… when you guys fell off, they got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly.

"And?" said Lucy.

"And they hit–they hit–oh, Harry, Lucy–they hit the Whomping Willow."

Harry and Lucy's insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds.

"And?" Harry said, dreading the answer.

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It–it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought them back just before both of you came around," said Hermione in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twigs onto their beds, the only remains of Harry and Lucy's faithful, finally beaten broomsticks.


End file.
